


When the World Revolves Around You

by turquoise_moon



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Demons & Dark Forces, F/F, Gender Confusion/Changes, Graphic Violence, Inter-world Relationships, Love is Somewhere Between Heaven and Hell, M/M, Medieval & Modern AU, Multi, Pre- & Post-Canon Worldbuilding, School Life, Soul of Light & Dark/Soul-Splitting and Soul-Binding Dynamics, Tainted Rebirth, Tainted Reincarnation Fic, Two Soreys is Torture & Mikleo is a Mess, WARNING: Explicit Sex & Smut (Anal/Oral/Masturbation/Non-con/Underage)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2018-10-12 07:09:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 179,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10485210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turquoise_moon/pseuds/turquoise_moon
Summary: Life seems perfect. But when Sorey Sheppard, campus heartthrob, ace athlete, and celebrity model started failing classes in junior high, he knew he needed the perfect tutor, Mikleo Luzrov Rulay, a fellow student who is brilliant, beautiful, and willing to do everything he can to get to the college of his dreams. But perfect has a price. And as Sorey is about to find out, nothing is what it seems.Not the world of sin and sacrifice sunk in Malevolence...Nor the flickering faith of a broken soul who will not be named...Not even the warning "ruins will be the ruin of you," which even Zenrus could not have foreseen...





	1. Stranger

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfiction. No creative writing skills here--I virtually cringe at the absolute horrors these fingers are capable of typing... Since I don't know the exact line between porn, smut, and fluff, I can't say for certain which one I'm using so, please comment on any part that's offensive. I welcome criticisms of any kind. :D
> 
>  
> 
> DISCLAIMER: The original story behind Tales of Zestiria and Tales of Zestiria the X belongs to Bandai-Namco and Ufotable respectively. Since the writer makes no profit from this labor of love and, in fact, struggles against shame and hopeless obsession every time she has to write an additional chapter for her self-pleasure and that of others like her, she respectfully makes a plea against any law suit. :D
> 
> Obsession has no shame, by the way. You've been warned. :D

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story begins right in the middle, with the pre-existing canon taking place before the events here, in addition to my version of other events that happened after that. 
> 
> And so their never-ending story begins again... ^_^

 

**o)------------o)O(o------------(o**

 

_Your beauty seems so far away_

_I'd have to write a thousand songs to make you comprehend_

_How beautiful you are_

_I know that I can't make you stay_

_But I would give my final breath to make you understand_

_How beautiful you are..._

_You call me a stranger, you say I'm a danger_

_But all these thoughts are leaving you tonight_

_I'm broke and abandoned, you are an angel_

_Making all my dreams come true tonight..._

 

 _-_ originally by **Secondhand Serenade** , "Stranger";

cover by **Sorey Sheppard** ,

from the album _ **Reminiscing: The Collection** , _vol. I 

 

 **o)------------o)O(o------------(o**  

 

 

Monday.

Monday is always terrible. Mikleo knew that the moment he heard running feet followed by a rude hand shoving his locker door shut from behind as he was about to pull out some stuff he needed for his next class. Thank god he had enough sense to step back a split second before the impact. But instead of fuming, flaming, and making a face at the "most ladylike lady who has ever ladied" who was responsible for that annoyance, he counted to twenty, mentally of course, and turned around slowly, trying to maintain a semblance of calm that he hoped did not look _too insincere._

He should get used to this. After all, whoever said running the student council of the most elite international school in the country is an easy job, especially when it puts you in charge of the most well-to-do, pain-in-the-butt, smart alecks on this side of the universe?

"Good morning, _Mikleo Luzrov Rulay_. Did I surprise you?"

"Me? Surprised? What do you mean?" Mikleo flicked a look at the opal-eyed, short, honey-blonde girl before turning to his locker, ignoring the patter of goosebumps that was beginning to make his skin crawl. He could sense the odd looks, the curious stares, the stifled whispers all around them and knew the reason all too clearly: Edna Lefay, the only student who _never_ talks to anyone, who _never_ looks at anyone for more than two seconds is giving him a lot of attention as usual, with that blasé expression of hers that could melt an iceberg. But if having sharp wits and a callous humor isn't enough to explain how  _Her Hindness_ attracts her fair share of animosity, then it  must be the fact that the little lady is also one of the most powerful students in campus.

Or just about the shortest, youngest junior high schooler ever to run for the student council and snitch the second highest position.

Of course, given Edna's intimidating background, Mikleo hardly doubted that possibility. After all, unlike the snotty, ultrafashionable crowd that makes up ninety-nine percent of the student population in campus, Edna's more than your average filthy-rich kid: she's a certified prodigy with an I.Q. of at least 180 and the sole heiress of one of the biggest CEOs in the country who's behind not one but two corporate giants: _Intersoft_ , a communications network provider, and _Lefay and Lefayette Industries_ , an international pharmaceutical and bio-research company. On top of that her mom happens to be a former news publication network producer who now presides over the school as one of its senior directors.

Those reminders simply gave Mikleo another reason to sigh the umpteenth time. From the feel of it, this Monday promises to be more terrible than usual.

"Hey, by _surprise_ I mean I don't _ever_ greet anyone but you, Meebo. Be grateful for once."

"Shame on me Edna, I should've known standard greetings in hell include trying to cut off someone's nose or fingers with a locker door. You're looking hyper as always."

"Drop the attitude, I know you're pissed. Been that way around me forever."

"You really want me to deny that? FYI I have a presentation for my Economics class in ten minutes so I don't really have time for chit-chat. We're doing it at the AVR in the next building so I should really be on my way..."

"Yeah, yeah you're busy. As always." Her half-hearted sarcasm was almost whiny.

Mikleo chose to ignore that as he leaned his right shoulder against his locker, meeting her gaze with a twitching glare. "I don't think you have time to play around either so care to tell me what this is all about?"

"That would be boring. I can give you three chances to make a guess, though."

 _Didn't she hear what I just said?_ He could feel his blood curdling as he counted to ten to give his inner steam time to cool down. True, Edna can be worse than a horror movie in her _absolutely_ bad moods, but there is something about her today which seems out of place, especially when it's not every day that she tries her damnest best to get in the way of his busy schedule.

"Look, if it's not that urgent, can you save it later for the council meeting? Which reminds me, we're really way behind schedule. I just got a memo from the faculty board saying we really need to turn in that program and activities proposal for the upcoming festival."

"Huh, with your typing skills, they're asking for a miracle."

"Fine, blame it on me! You probably have no idea  what kind of proposals we're getting!"

"What? You mean someone proposed to you _again_?"

Mikleo winced. "You know that's _not_ it! Seriously, we have at least three club presidents debating on whose beach party theme's gonna get our vote of approval... sheesh, if I have to listen to those arguments again, my mind's gonna explo-"

"Can you cut the babble and listen, dork?"

Mikleo knew he should be getting used to Edna's abrasive, _cutting edge_ speech-style but he couldn't help feeling annoyed nonetheless. "Isn't that the idea I've been trying to get through to you from the start?"

"Fine, whatever. But if you bothered to check your cellphone five minutes ago, my mom wouldn't have to ring me to ask about Mrs. Rulay."

Mikleo's almost translucent complexion paled two more shades at that. "W-wait, did my mom call her or anything? Did something happen-"

"Gods, can you stop being such a worry wart Meebo? For once? My mom just wanted to know if Mrs. Rulay mentioned anything important before you left for school. Obviously they have something up their sleeves again but whatever it is, she wants to be clear that it isn't exactly voluntary so you can't say _no_ , got it?"

Mikleo scrunched up his face. Whatever it is, Edna's piercing look of annoyance was hardly giving him any clues, making him feel even more insecure and inane for not knowing.

He gave up. "Look, Edna, to be honest, I don't really have time to go through everything my mom and I talked about this morning! On top of that, I'm really gonna be late!"

"Sooo," Edna rasps, letting her voice rise an octave to let him know she was having ideas. "Is the _great_ student body president asking _me,_ his ever-so-reliable vice-president, to text him the details?"

"Uh, since you put it that way, I'd really appreciate it if you don't mind-"

"Well, then..."  Edna smiles, dripping sweet sarcasm with every intake of breath as she eyes Mikleo without mercy. "Down on your knees, my abject admirer, and repeat after me! Oh, Lady Edna, I beg you to lend me your thoughts, your infinite wisdom so that I, the _pitiful_ Meebo, may be so worthy as to worship the ground you walk on, a deal?"

"What?" Lavender eyes widened, ghostly pale cheeks losing even the slightest hint of color they had.  

Edna was practically sneering. "You heard me. So how about it?"

"Look, Miss Cleopatra, you've got the wrong guy here! Mark Anthony just left on the fastest ship in the continent, all right?"

"Sheesh, you're no fun, and quite honestly, you're definitely _no_ Julius Caesar of mine either, so I  guess I  have to lower my expectations a bit."

"Gods, whatever suits you is fine, I'm beat." Mikleo glanced at his watch, making sure she could see how much in a hurry he was. "So what do you _really_ need me for, seriously?"

Something in the way he said it though he was certain he couldn't have said it any differently from the normal way he would say things to her must have sparked a flame, or given Edna's character, more like a raging fire in her. She leaned into him, putting her nose barely inches from his chin with that same harsh, unflinching stare that made him back up a few steps and bump his locker door.

Not surprisingly, the loud, metallic screech earned him more than a few hushed whispers and knowing glances in his direction. 

"Hey, I admit even a smart girl like me can use a dumbass once in a while to keep herself entertained! But I guess that's not the kind of job you're aiming for, right? But to be perfectly honest, I don't get why anyone on this planet would need someone like you, really, as if _meebs_ don't grow plenty enough on their side of the fence! Anyway, if you care enough to know what the heck I'm talking about, here!"  

She grabbed his hand and folded it around a crumpled piece of paper.

"Do what you want with it for all I care but I won't text you for stupid things like that ever!"

Mikleo was taken aback. Secret jokes about Edna Lefay have always centered on her being an emotionless prick, but today she was practically fuming. Livid. To make things even more intriguing, the paper she rudely shoved into his hand felt wettish, gnarlish as if it had been chewed by a dog then thrown into a gutter. He couldn't even tell if it was plain sweat that made it soft and sticky.

Stashing it into his blazer pocket without as  much as bothering to know what it was for, Mikleo collected his things then stepped out the hall into the open field that separated the two buildings.

From a far-off distance (though it wasn't really _that_ far, except that haste and impatience were making him confuse time with distance) he could hear hushed giggles and cheering. He passed some benches along the way where students were huddled together and seemed to be gazing out into the wide expanse of the football field where familiar patches of red, white, and yellow moved in synchronic disarray, like lines and dots dancing on an endless, summer green.

As usual, Mikleo ignored that and lifted his chin up to the seamless, summer blue above him. He couldn't help smiling as wind and sunshine met his face, a passing breeze brushing locks of hair off his forehead...

"Hey, Captain Sheppard, keep your eyes on the ball! This is NO time to be checking out the babes, though if I were you I'd pray my girlfriend didn't hear that! Besides, you think your fans came to cheer a lousy player who'd miss a stupid penalty shot?"

"Uh, sorry Coach, my bad!"

Mikleo looked away and into the field where the commotion seems to be. It was annoying really. He could have relished all of it a few seconds longer... the refreshing breeze, the sight of feathery clouds lazily drifting by, sunlight filtering through the broken canopy of trees above him had the voice that hollered from afar not been so irritatingly loud.

It seems the school's soccer team is at it again. After all, the huge field within view was made for that purpose: to show off the school's pride and glory in its winning form.

Mikleo couldn't help frowning. _A practice game this early? Is sports really all that matters to these people?_

As expected, a not-so-small crowd was cheering the players with incomprehensible bursts of excitement, mostly giggling interspersed with random comments about everything except the game itself. _  
_

Though Mikleo had more than enough worries to indulge in anything fun at the moment, he couldn't help his nagging curiosity from asking how anyone could be thrilled watching a ball get tossed around in circles for hours until some alpha-male slams it into a net no bigger than a walk-in closet. Meanwhile the tension in the field hummed with a breathless silence as the soccer team captain finally moved into position for the shot.

It must have been a goal... no, it _couldn't_  have been anything but _that_ as the air vibrated with an explosion of mad shouts, insane cheering and high-pitched giggling. Mikleo mentally winced and quickened his steps to get out of the stifling noise, but then a couple of female students rushed  forward and jostled him back, knocking down some of his books. Bending to pick them up, he couldn't help but hear the strident gushes and breathless whispers of some students just a few feet away, their relentless fangirling just about loud enough to make even deaf caterpillars cringe. He rather doubts if shameless displays of exuberant admiration _or_ obsession are indispensable to the appreciation of soccer as a sport.

"Sheppard scored again, didn't he? Gods, he's awesome and the real practice hasn't even started! He really puts everything into the game, huh?"

"Yeah, definitely! If _that_ doesn't get you all hot and bothered, I don't know what could! He's _sooo_ fucking amazing!"

"Amazing right. Wonder if is he's just as amazing anywhere else..."

"What do you mean?"

"Haven't you heard? Everybody knows he's dating Miss Cheerleader, the new transfer student from you-know-what school."

"Oh, you mean the Parisian blonde who has a Latin-sounding last name?"

Uh-huh. I heard she and Sheppard were old friends or, uh, old flames?"

"Who cares about the difference, everybody's a friend these days."

"I know right? Anyway, all the guys in my class have the hots for her, I mean, yeah, she's kinda pretty and all that. But we all know that  _that_ type of girl ain't gonna date just any hunk if he's not the coolest guy in campus."

"Or the one with a gold mine at least. So in other words Sheppard's really taken?"

"Gods, is there _ever_ a week in his life that he's available or dateless?"

"When he was in diapers, maybe? You know, you really sound disappointed right now."

"Oh, and you're not? Though I'm sure he's already got her in his _A-list_ and you know what that means, don't you?"

"Who doesn't? You know Lindie, his ex? All her filthy mouth could say was how _big_ he was where it  _really_ counts... Well, I definitely gotta see it sometime!"

"Not before I do, you won't!!!"

"Oh yeah? You think he's gonna dump Miss Cheerleader anytime soon?"

"Every girl's gotta have _some_ expiration date when it comes to him."

"So how long is she gonna last? Wanna bet on it?"

Mikleo huffed, wondering why he even bothered to tune in to that. It's not like it was the first time he had caught girls talking about the teen celebrity that way. Besides, it must be normal for someone as popular and good-looking as Sheppard to be hounded by inane girly gossip, even if much of it sounds scandalously cheap and horribly exaggerated. Then again, he's never been much of a sports fan himself. Not only is he virtually clueless about the ace athlete's _real_ personal life, but he's never had the chance to see Sheppard up close except on billboard ads and glossy teen-magazines that have begun to invade even his favorite, second-hand bookstores.

In any case it wasn't his habit to eavesdrop on brainless teen-talk when he's got more important things to think about. He turned around the bend leading to the entrance to the next building when something bobbed in front of him, bouncing its weight against his left foot, forcing him to look up. Why he has this habit of looking down at his feet while walking and thinking was something he has always been remotely aware of.

Well, at least, until a voice knocked him out of that pointless reverie.

"Oh, hi, sorry about that."

Mikleo found himself gazing up at a ray of sunshine pulling the corners of the guy's lips and bright, emerald eyes into a goofy, doofus but adorably cute smile. In fact if smiles could give one brain freeze, he swore his mind is now as dead as an ice cube, which explains why it took him approximately three and a half seconds to process a normal response to that. 

"Uh... oh, it-it's nothing." Whoa, stuttering is  _so_ normal indeed. Way to go Mikleo!

"Nice to hear that," the voice chuckled smoothly, evenly, with oozing confidence. Then instead of picking up the ball, the guy leaned forward and hooked the ball with his right foot before shuffling it playfully between his feet and bouncing it up to his waiting right hand. It was a flashy move, sort of, and Mikleo found himself wanting _not_ to stare too hard.

"Sorry, hate to be a bother but... uh, I could tell you're not a huge fan of the game, are you?"

"M-me?" Mikleo wanted to give himself a mental kick on the butt this time. The guy couldn't have spoken to anyone else could he?

"Well, just wondering anyways. I have to get back to my team so, see yah!"

From afar, Edna was shaking her head slowly as she stared at the screen of her cellphone flashing an unread message alert. "I can't believe I'm saying this but I wish you all the luck in the world, Meebo. You may be the one thing he needs, but probably not the one he deserves."

 

**o-----)o(-----o**

 

"Rulay, that was an excellent report! Of course, it's not like I expect any less from a straight-A, honor student and the president of the student council himself."

Mikleo was beet red. He has never been good at taking compliments, not that he receives very little. Before he and his mom moved to an apartment closer to this school he used to attend the local public school where the student population was higher and everybody seemed more naturally competitive. Even so, he got more than a fair amount of attention. But of course, that was where all his problems actually started. So indulging in compliments and flatteries, fulsome or not, was something he would rather not get used to _again_.

Admittedly though, receiving praise from someone he highly respects felt really good so he couldn't help but be a little bit awkward and flustered about it.

"By the way, any plans for college? If you keep it up, I'm sure getting admitted to an excellent university won't be a problem at all. It's unfortunate that very few students these days take their education as seriously as you do, with degrees being more of an inelastic demand among the rich and privileged: they don't need it but they'd be damned not to have one. So it's quite an honor to meet somebody who's smart and genuinely passionate about his studies."

"It's an even greater honor to receive such compliments from you, Professor."

"Sir Mayvin would be fine, Rulay. After all, I've retired from teaching at the university."

"Don't you sort of miss it, Sir? I... uh, could imagine how engaging it is to be teaching students with more maturity and motivation."

"I can't disagree with you there. I surmise you have plans of going in that direction?"

Mikleo couldn't help but smile nervously. "To be honest, I'd be more than happy to be part of the academe someday... like doing research or teaching at a university or a local college would be amazing. Writing also sounds exciting, but I'm sure it would take years before I can really be good at it."

An amused grin lights up Professor Mayvin's face. Being sensitive to even the slightest reactions, Mikleo blushed embarrassingly. "Uh, sorry Profe--I mean Sir Mayvin! I didn't mean to sound so conceited or ambitious I mean, I know I'm not even _that_ good to begin with!"

"Having a little pride is no crime," Professor Mayvin laughs, attracting the attention of some students in the hallways who seemed taken aback at the sight and sound of the gaunt-faced professor enjoying a conversation with someone their age. Mikleo sensed the conspicuous glares and curious whispering, and though he knew it was something he should get used to, he couldn't help feeling just a little bit uncomfortable. It was reassuring though, to see the former professor in  one of his lighter moods. He definitely  looked a lot younger when he laughed like that, showing dimples that diminished the harsh lines on his usually tired face.

Even this slight change makes him realize how much kinder the stern professor is for real, or how much homelier and less intimidating any person can be if one bothers to look hard enough.

"Besides," Professor Mayvin went on, "it's been quite a while since I've met someone so determined and promising, a young man who dares to take the road less traveled. It's quite lamentable that while technology's growing to help better society, most young people look the other way, putting  more value on feel-good things like sports, celebrities, and sex."

Mikleo found his face getting hot. "Uh, I agree..."

"Now, now, I should apologize for that. I guess you'd have to excuse my age... You see, every generation has its quibbles here and there with time being how it is... and progress, oh god, listen to me, I sound like someone who's just walked through a time portal from the Middle Ages! Going back to the subject, have you decided which fields of interest to pursue in connection with these future goals?"

"Well, archaeology, anthropology, history, or even linguistics is definitely related to the things I'm really fond of, like ancient history, culture, and the arts." 

"I see. So you still have one more year of high school, right?"

Mikleo's lips pulled into a thin smile. "One and a half if nothing goes wrong."

"Well, I can tell an academic career really suits your personality, Rulay! I'm almost certain the cognitive rigors of such fields won't be a problem to someone so motivated and intelligent! But I'd be lying to say it's all bed and roses with such careers getting very little attention in the job market these days."

Mikleo nodded. "A lucrative profession is definitely more practical but I don't think it's challenging enough to keep me interested. And besides, an academic environment is much more ideal. It's the only place I can imagine finding people who are truly dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge and who definitely care about other kinds of accomplishments, not just material benefits."

"Such refined optimism is very encouraging to hear but try not to overthink it either!" Professor Mayvin chuckled, giving him a fatherly pat on the shoulder. "After all there's plenty of time to experience different things and reconsider your options. You might be surprised that the same passions can lead you to an entirely different direction or open paths you've never even considered in the slightest."

"I-I guess so." Mikleo felt guilty saying that though. At this point, he's determined not to let anything, no matter how earthshakingly important or distracting, lead him astray. For the privileged few, ambition is simply an attitude, the kind one might be able to afford if he or she's got everything else. But for the not-so-fortunate like him, it's more of a survival tool, a compass and a guide to a fragile future. Unlike others he doesn't have the liberty of squandering chances by dilly-dallying or _exploring options_ as how many a liberal, upper-class parent or adviser would have it.

Mikleo found himself suddenly wishing _that_ were the case. But after brainstorming all the realistic choices he has, he finds himself accepting an even harsher reality:  that unless he can get exceptional grades and an outstanding recommendation from his teachers and superiors all of which are instrumental to getting a scholarship, going to college is a faraway, heart-breaking dream.

Because there is absolutely no way he'll let his mom work herself to death just to put him through college. Even student loans are out of the question. Knowing his mom full well, those debts are definitely going to weigh her down as a personal responsibility she'll never let him shoulder on his own. 

And that's exactly why he needs to work harder than ever, devote and dedicate all his time to his studies and extracurricular responsibilities. Not that he expects any of his upper-class peers to understand that. No doubt more than a few regard him as an opportunistic go-getter, a geeky hypocrite who might indulge in the same little distractions if he can afford them like everybody else... and that includes sports, romance, and that three-letter word...

For certain, distractions have social class too.  But thanks to his mom who has always shown so much dedication in raising him, Mikleo never had to feel any bitter envy or self-pity in the face of all those tempting choices that were always beyond reach. Admittedly, he got that streak of stubborn pride from his mom. Even if she could use the connections she had with friends in high places before she was disowned for marrying Mikleo's dad, she chose to be self-supporting and independent. The only person able to pierce her armor of self-reliance was Mrs. Lefay, Edna's mom, who convinced her to have him apply for a sponsorship program that can, by all means, give him the best education for free. Though Mikleo is aware that his grades are more than good enough to get him into any private school out there, without financial support and the necessary connections, he knows doors to such rare opportunities won't be so welcoming, won't be so trusting as to take him in without conditions.

And his mom, being the same person she has always been, accepted that one favor and politely declined all others.

Mikleo has always admired her for that. Having lived a life of comfort and luxury, she must have found it poignantly difficult to force upon him a reality that was less ideal and definitely wanting in many ways. But Mikleo didn't want her compromising her values for the sake of raising him. The fact that she insisted on working two to three shifts a day to save for his college tuition fees only showed how much she valued hard work and independence. Just like his mom, Mikleo wished he didn't have to depend on the charity of anyone, upper-class institutions most of all, but it would somehow be impractical to ignore their exclusivist generosity either, with all its easy benefits. 

Then again, that doesn't mean he approves of affluence in all its forms. He still believes that living a life of surplus and privilege is a social crime... that opulence lacks the moral fiber to eliminate gross social inequalities from which it benefits. In fact if his observations of his classmates' lifestyle were any reliable measure, he would say that the filthy-rich are nothing but squandering show-offs and autocratic bigots, who because of their easy, sinecure lifestyle are practically lazy, excessive and insensitive to the deprivation of others. And that is why regardless of the deep gratitude he feels for Mrs. Lefay and Edna's somewhat uncanny generosity, Mikleo is resolved never to allow himself to be integrated into such a culture.

He would never allow himself to be a tool that perpetuates and enjoys a system that ignores its own backward ecology.

He also knows his judgment borders on condemnation, but he just couldn't help himself.

He has his reasons. And saying that is not an excuse. He really does.

"So Rulay?"

Mikleo realized that he and Professor Mayvin have already passed several corridors and are now standing in front of the faculty office. With a thanks and an apology, which the economics professor accepted with a slight nod, Mikleo thought of heading to his next class when his hand strayed into the pocket of his school jacket.

 _What the--_ He felt a ball of crumpled paper witihin.

It took him about five seconds to smoothen out the creases until he could make out a scraggly four-digit number and catchy-sounding word written on it. But no matter how he wanted to figure out what the information was for, his mind only registered the hurt and angry look on Edna's face when she rudely shoved that piece of paper into his hand. Though guilt is no evidence of crime, her expression gave him the strangest feeling that he must owe her something he could never thank her enough for.

Blinking a few more times, Mikleo desperately tried to focus. "An address maybe? But what am I supposed to do with it?"

"Hmm... it does look familiar, doesn't it?"

Mikleo froze. It wasn't like him to notice _too_ late that someone has been looking over his shoulder... someone at least a head taller, with broad shoulders and a muscular frame that seem as intimidating as they are reassuring.

_Reassuring?_

To be honest, he can't place the feeling or the sensation of having that looming shadow just right there, barely a few inches away, hanging behind him like a protective cloak.

Mikleo's immediate impulse was to step away from that unfamiliar presence, though his knees seemed to be suddenly uncooperative. He couldn't even tell whether it was the uncanny feeling of standing too close to a stranger that was giving him the shaky, wobbly feeling.

Or maybe-just maybe-it was the sensual feel of his warm breath that made every nerve of him tingle so shamelessly.

 _What the-no_ , _gods, anything but that!_ Mikleo shook his head desperately as if the denial could blot out the unwanted image. This wasn't the first time that a guy... no wait! There's no way he's going to think about _that_ either. Reality is a way of seeing things, right. Except for the law of gravity and other stuff like that, things only become what they are if you start thinking of them that way.

So whoever this guy is... well, all he has to do is to ignore him. Nobody deserves that kind of overthinking anyway.   

"Uh, I'm not sure if Miss Lefay already mentioned anything about it but... uhh, I guess starting next week you're going to be my tutor? By the way, uh, I'm Sorey and that's my address right there. I'm sure you remember me from a short while back, right?"

The wide, friendly smile beaming back at him was warm and welcoming but all Mikleo could do was stare back with a wordless, questioning look. _Sorey... oh like that heartless, skirt-chasing idol every girl's been dying to date? There's only one person here who owns that name. Then again, hold on, is-is it even possible?_

The silence was getting awkward, but all Sorey could do was rub the back of his head with a sort of helpless, embarrassed look that he hoped was not going to turn into a blush. He may be bigger and well, _almost_ a head taller than the silver-haired student in front of him with the palest amethyst eyes, but for some illogical reason, he couldn't hold the gaze long enough without having that uncanny, fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach.

And it was not just fluttery and feathery. It was pulsating in waves like-

Sorey coughed, feeling a sudden urge to give himself a punch on the head. "Err... I-I-uh-guess I was talking about that time you were walking by when I was about to nail that penalty shot?"

Sophisticated lavender eyes widened and blinked hard at him in such a clear, confused, yet honest way that Sorey felt mesmerized, finding his heart pounding in his ears and a slow sweltering heat rising up his cheeks.

 _Gods, I'm already sweating and I'm not even playing!_ "Uh... and yeah, we even talked a bit when I came to get that ball that got in your way, remember? Again, sorry about that, my mistake, sort of."

Mikleo breezed through the events that morning before realizing what the guy was talking about. But somehow, something just didn't make much sense. True, some guy, a player from the school's soccer team, did approach him to apologize for a ball that got in his way and even showed him some complicated footwork as a bonus. But that happened sometime after everybody was in a commotion because of that ace athlete Sheppard, the soccer team captain who had every girl swooning when he got that penalty shot in.

Sorey fidgeted nervously. "Is-is something wrong? Did I say something weird-"

But Mikleo was too incredulous to hear the rest of that sentence. Why would a guy like Sheppard, someone whose underwear's reasonably more popular than any of the literary shorts he has ever written for the school paper, be practically giving him that much attention while he was in the middle of a crucial shot in the game, much less waste precious time showing off his skills to a complete stranger? It doesn't seem to make much sense...

Sorey fumbled for something in his bag and drew out a sweating bottle of water. "Here, uh, I hope you're not having a heat stroke or anything like that I mean, it's really warm outside and... uh, you look like you could need a drink..."

Mikleo gave the bottle a curious gaze then blinked once, twice, before staring back at Sorey. "Wait, I'm sorry, just let me get this straight. Are-are you saying you're _the_ Sorey Sheppard? Ace athlete, celebrity idol, GQ icon, teen heartthrob, playboy-whatever Sheppard? _For real_?"

As soon as those words slipped out, Mikleo felt like digging a mental grave to bury himself in. Gods, how could he phrase that question like a stupid, shameless, gossip column? Besides, Sorey Sheppard is neither the face nor the name one can pretend _not_ to know. Then again, there's a big difference seeing the same guy in his jersey soccer uniform, looking all sweaty and disheveled compared with now, with his chestnut-brown hair properly combed (save for some strands that seem too rebellious to be tamed), and with his navy-blue jacket and pants, white inner shirt and red tie looking all crisp and fresh, nothing out of place.

But just as before, it was the wide, friendly, dopey-but-hopelessly-cute smile that called his attention like a beacon of light.

"Uh, yeah, _unfortunately_ it's really me. You sound a bit disappointed, but I hope you don't-I mean you _really_ shouldn't believe all those rumors about me! I swear I'm nothing like the playboy everybody says I am! I guess I do date a lot, but that doesn't mean I do stuff... uh, you know, those things they say every guy would do if given the chance."

"So you mean to say the playboy image is no less true, just hyped up?"

Mikleo didn't even know why he phrased that question so accusingly. It's not like he has any rational excuse to be judgmental.  

But Sorey wasn't even reacting to that negative vibe, or probably just wasn't critical enough of Mikleo's approach to see it. If anything, he seems to take the accusation seriously, looking hopelessly cornered like a child who has just been caught with his hand inside the cookie jar. "Guess I should say guilty as charged. That's two mistakes in a row."

Mikleo didn't expect that quick, modest admission from Mr. Popularity. He shook his head at Sorey, wanting more than anything to wipe the guilt off his face. "No, to be honest that was rude of me, sorry. Besides, there's no reason for you to explain anything. It's my fault for bringing up an irrelevant point. I mean, I'm not saying  _everything_  about you is irrelevant! It's just..." Mikleo tried to focus on something positive, but his conversation skills are just practically nonexistent in random situations like these. 

Sorey knew he was staring but couldn't help it. Mikleo probably was oblivious, not knowing how funny he looked being so confused and flustered about trivial things like that.

"Uh, I guess what I'm trying to say is, whatever people say about you is none of my business. As student body president, it's my job to be as objective as I can, and I will."

The beam of confidence returned in all its shining radiance. "Nah, don't sweat it, it's fine, I'm not offended or anything!"

Mikleo averted his face, knowing how embarrassingly red he must be by now. He knew it wasn't even entirely Sheppard's fault that he was so popular. To be honest, that face has more than the right charm to dominate the fanciest billboards along High Street,  a charm that has Sheppard glowing oh-so-sparkly in countless ads such as... _Wait_... Was that an energy drink called _Verge_ or a new anti-dandruff shampoo, _Sheen_ was it? Oh, and how about that cereal ad on youtube that has kids squealing  _Krisp-Oh_ like crazy as a close-up shot shows a widely-grinning, dopey-but-cute, cinnamon-roll Sorey scooping a mouthful of it?

Then again, how can one expect less from the grandson of Zenrus Sheppard, the multi-millionaire business tycoon behind the largest international hotel chain in the continent, the same man behind some of the leading brands in the market, owning more than half of Intersoft, Lefay and Lefayette, Anvil and Avalon and Twin Crescent among other viciously competitive industries out there. From shipping lines to law firms, hotels, and research facilities, the senior Sheppard has it all under his thumb. In fact, the reputable publication _Business Class,_ the region's Wall Street journal, just declared Sheppard Multicorporation Industries to be the biggest taxpayer in the country for the past two decades and also the largest income-generating investment corporation in the continent.

It shouldn't be ironic that Mikleo knew these facts more than anything personal about the ace-athlete celebrity icon. He just finished an article on Zenrus Sheppard for the school paper, citing him as one of several paragons of excellence that should inspire young people with their success stories. But what interests Mikleo the most about the man was, to be honest, not the man himself; everybody knows that even their school is connected to the Sheppard tycoon who named it after his daughter's, the late Selene Sheppard's, best-selling trilogy _Zestiria_ : the _Book of Prophecy_ , the _Book of Awakening_ , and the _Chronicles of the Dark Shepherd_. 

And that explains why the most expensive international school on this side of the world was named _Zestiria International_. Not the best-sounding or even the most appropriate name for an educational landmark, but it certainly isn't cliché either.

Mikleo has read all three of Selene Sheppard's Zestiria novels and to say the least he was a huge fan of the story and the merchandise based on its movie adaptations. The funny thing was, there doesn't seem to be anything about Sorey Sheppard that one might even remotely associate with the novelist in his blood. Mikleo remembers attending Selene Sheppard's book-signing five years ago barely six months before the much publicized car accident that killed Sorey Sheppard's mom. From what he had observed then, the celebrated author spoke sparingly and was not quick to smile even when openly flattered or praised; yet  her eyes had that soft expression in them that seemed sublimely serene rather than indifferent.

Back then he thought how natural it must be for writers to exude that kind of poetic melancholy, a kind of profundity found only in the seat of the imagination or the soul... like a gift talented people must be born with, somehow.

Now, looking at Sheppard... the easy smile, the blinding friendliness, the relaxed, confident gait that betrays a clear, unhampered conscience... he was beginning to have doubts as to how anything sublime or poetic can hide beneath all that sports bravado that seems so _un_ -literary and _un_ -profound. 

"Uh... hello, are you all right? You look really pale just now... I'm sure this would help."

Once more Sorey offered him his bottle of water. Mikleo decided to take it this time since it seemed more embarrassing to have everyone see Sorey holding it out to him with such a beatific smile one could almost imagine him levitating with a halo and a pair of wings.

"T-thanks, I think?" Mikleo wasn't sure why he was even mumbling. Does talking to perfect strangers really have to be this stressful?

"Uh, no worries. I can get you a soda or anything else, if you like."

Mikleo raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"

Sorey looked away guiltily as if he has just done something embarrassing. "Err... nothing. Just trying to be nice."

Mikleo frowned. "Oh yeah? Don't try too hard for my sake. I'm not."

Sorey squinted at that as if a rude finger has just poked his eye. Mikleo winced. Now what made him just say that?

Well, to be honest, it's not like he even meant every word there. It's just the way nervousness works on him. It makes him edgy and sarcastic for no reason.

As if expecting that cold-shoulder treatment, Sorey contented himself with furtive glances in Mikleo's direction until the awkward silence made him aware that he was actually staring. Not that Mikleo seemed to mind. His attention was apparently somewhere else as he drank the water down from the bottle with easy grace, making Sorey aware of those long fingertips wrapped around the container with an almost effeminate softness to it. For some reason though, Mikleo seemed distracted, not even looking in Sorey's direction.  

Sorey found himself making a deep exhale as memories flitted in his mind... fond memories that made him want to reach out and touch the silvery haze in front of him, but the impulse lasted only for a few seconds. After two years of controlling that impulse, this was the first time it almost overtook him, but he was able to check himself in time.

Sorey had to sigh to that, even if only in his mind. He's too close to giving in, and to think that he had been in control for so long...

He knew he had to focus on something else... and quickly.

"Uh, by the way, I know this is awkward, asking someone as important as you, no less than the student council president to help me out with my studies. Of course you have a lot of school stuff to take care of, who doesn't, and everyone can see how responsible you are and hardworking and how amazing that you're into so many school activities and still get straight-A _s_ on top of everything!"

At this point, Mikleo almost choked halfway through gulping the water in his mouth. He gave Sorey's outstretched arms a curious what-exactly-are-you-so-excited-about look, which earned a doofus, half-grin from Sorey.

"Sorry, that must be awkward for you... So, that's why I really want to ask you in person, 'cause I desperately need help, and I know you're my only chance, and you're the kind of person who won't turn down anyone who asks! Besides, my grades are not _that_ bad, I swear! I'm just a little behind..."

"A little, huh?" Mikleo eyed him suspiciously. "How much is _a little_ if I may ask?"

Sorey rubbed the back of his head, averting his face that was fast becoming a furious red. "Uh, I've got _C-_ on most subjects and only one _F_ actually."

"Uh, so would two _Fs_ make it a lot? That's pretty modest of you."

Sorey laughed. "I know, right?"

Mikleo was shocked. "Dude, that's not a compliment!"

"Look, I'm more worried about my Gramps, 'cause if he finds out what I'm getting by the end of this term I might actually get kicked out of the house for good!"

"No kidding?"

"And with the team gearing up for the championship plus all the other necessary distractions in my life, I really need someone to keep me focused."

Mikleo emptied the bottle  with one last gulp and carefully put the cap back. "Uh, necessary distractions? That sounds more like an excuse, don't you think?"

Sorey scratched his cheek. "That-that's kinda harsh."

"It's the truth. I mean, distractions are what they are because you don't really need them but you just can't stay away from them. Like an addiction. Sort of."

Sorey blinked. "I guess but... don't you have at least one? Like something you can't live without even if it's in the way of everything else that's important?"

Mikleo raised an eyebrow. "Like food? Taking a shower? Sleeping? I could do more if I didn't have to bother with all that."

Sorey couldn't help stifling a laugh, raising a hand to cover his mouth though it was too late. "Right, right, sometimes I forget how amazing you really are!"

"Hey, now _you're_ the one being rude!"

Sorey finally burst into giggles. Heads turned their way, but he seemed oblivious to that, obviously enjoying Mikleo's sharp, twitching glare.

"C'mon, I mean every word in a good way! Uh, by the way, it's Mikleo Luzrov Rulay, right? Is it okay if I call you Mikleo?"

Wow, perfect timing. Just when he was about to get seriously pissed, he gets acknowledged by a higher being. Mikleo felt like giving himself another mental  punch.

"Uh, y-yeah, whatever is fine I don't care too much about formalities anyway. On my end, I hope it's okay to just call you Sorey."

Gods, hold on, is that right? Did he just stupidly offer to be friends with Mr. Popularity by asking permission to call him by his first name too? Mikleo felt just about ready to have a meltdown, as if such things are the stuff one can really be ready for. His mind must have been suffering from too much stress to be this careless, this naïve, this horribly transparent? W-wait, that can't be right either! It's not like he's even close to considering Sheppard as a friendly option, no, never, given all the badass rumors about him.

Besides, what if Sheppard's just playing around with him, sort of like trying some experimental mind game because filthy-rich guys like him are just so absolutely bored with life and don't have enough bright ideas that might give them something intellectually productive to do? In other words, what if it's a test of some sort? What if Sheppard's simply interested in knowing whether he's different from the regular crowd, if he's better than any  _other_  fanboy out there ready to do his bidding?

Mikleo sweated. He's no fanboy to begin with, gods, what's wrong with his subconscious! On top of that, whatever is running in Sheppard's imagination is hardly anything worth wasting his time on. The best strategy is to stay away, that's it. Better safe than sorry.

Sorey chuckles. "So, I guess we're okay?" 

"N-No, wait, there must be some sort of mistake somewhere!" Mikleo knew he was flustered, there was no denying that, but he couldn't care less. There must be a way to convince Sheppard that this was all just a big, stupid misunderstanding. A huge conspiracy.

Sorey looked on with an amused half-smile that Mikleo was quick to ignore. "Look, I don't even know whose idea it was that got you convinced that I could tutor you or do anything like that! I mean, I don't remember Edna saying anything about a job when she tried to-"

"Uh, look..." Sorey interrupts with a ludicrous, almost lop-sided grin that seems just as charming, though Mikleo isn't about ready to admit that either. In any case, Sorey is determined not to give him the chance to reject the proposal right there and then. 

"I don't mean to be rude but can we meet after school tomorrow so we can discuss my schedule... uh, you know, to make arrangements and all? You see, I really  need to see Professor Mayvin right now. I think I'm in for another scolding with my paper being so late and..."

Sorey gives him a sheepish smile, the kind that looks so unnervingly dopey and just cloyingly sweet it's almost scary to watch. "Just call  me Sorey. I won't have it any other way, all right? And I have your number by the way so I might text or call you tonight if something important comes up."

Mikleo nods without speaking, his gaze following Sheppard until the door to the faculty office closes behind him. Just about then, he notices the empty bottle in his right hand, and as he starts walking to the nearest trash bin, something strikes him as odd.

Mikleo froze in mid-step. _W-wait, hold on, what did THAT guy just say?_  

Sheppard has his number? And they're going to have to meet tomorrow to make arrangements? But-but didn't he make it clear that he wasn't even interested... that it could be nothing more than just a misunderstanding on Edna's part? In fact, it could  _never_ be anything _but_ a misunderstanding! After all, how could he-how could anyone imagine him to be so desperate as to let himself be caught in a situation with a dangerous player, a heartless tease like Sheppard, that egomaniac who's got all the opportunities in the world to turn everyone around him into a hopeless, spineless eager-pleaser?

Well, Zestiria's infamous hotshot may seem a bit too nice to be the same person celebrity rumors make him out to be, but gods, should he even rely on a casual first impression like that? As for Edna...

True, she can be one hell of a narcissistic prick and a conceited sadist when she's in the mood for it, but Mikleo's certain she's not the type who'd seriously dribble someone's personal life like a basketball for the sheer, cruel fun of it. No, despite all those things Edna made him put up with every single day, there's no way she'd pull a stupid stunt like this just to shake him up or see him work up some nerves of steel.

Mikleo groaned. Nerves of steel, right. He could use some right now.

Then again, Edna wouldn't be Edna if she couldn't think of at least one nameless horror to spice up her life... exactly the kind that could make him grovel at her feet in absolute surrender as if nothing else would satisfy her high standards of unconditional friendship. Even so, giving Sheppard this crazy-stupid idea that he, Mikleo Luzrov Rulay, respected president of the highest student body would happily risk everything for a chance to be some ace athlete's personal slave... the nerve! Just the thought of following Sheppard around like a fawning celebrity fan is-is undignified by astronomical proportions!

Mikleo sensed trouble looming ahead. And to think that the first day of the week has just barely begun. 

 

 

**o)------------o)O(o------------(o**

 

 

  


	2. Until the Last Falling Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorey tries to convince Mikleo to accept the tutoring job, but things have a way of turning for the worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original draft of this story is based on a prequel (I just recently posted after being shelved for so long) that takes place 1600 years after Sorey's awakening in the canon/game version. In that story, seraphim wars broke out--which contradicts Sorey's dream of peaceful co-existence between humans and seraphim. Sorey and Mikleo fought side by side in that war, bad things happened, and they, along with others (both friends and enemies) were transported to another mortal realm (i.e. earth) by the force of a Will far more ancient than that of the gods and the Malevolence. That's when I thought of Sorey 1/2... Anyway, for those who read the first chapter, thanks so much!
> 
> DISCLAIMER: The original story behind Tales of Zestiria and Tales of Zestiria the X belongs to Bandai-Namco and Ufotable respectively. Since the writer makes no profit from this labor of love and, in fact, struggles against shame and hopeless obsession every time she has to write an additional chapter for her self-pleasure and that of others like her, she respectfully makes a plea against any law suit. :D
> 
> Obsession has no shame, by the way. You've been warned. :D

**o)------------o)O(o------------(o**

_If there was a chance_

_That_ _we could be lovers_

_I'd write you a book_

_Of_ _handwritten letters_

_And burn them all up to the end_

_Just to start over again..._

 

_If there was a chance that we could be lovers_

_I'd learn how to dance_

_And to hold without touching_

_Oh love, where have you been?_

_I'd wait for your lead to come in..._

 

_So tell me the secret_

_Is there a way into your heart?_

_'Cause I want to believe it_

_Or will I be wishing_

_Until the last falling star?_

 

-originally by **Matthew Perryman Jones** , "Until the Last Falling Star";

cover by **Sorey Sheppard** , 

from the album _ **Reminiscing: The Collection** , vol. II_

 

**o)------------o)O(o------------(o**

 

 

Zenrus can feel the years in his bones. His body has been complaining lately and healing has been taking far longer than it used to, making him conscious of the subtle differences between this current body and the one he had in that former life. But the chronic yet predictable pain hammering in his chest and spreading through his limbs was the least of his worries. It was a good thing that there had been no ominous stirrings yet, no sign of guardians, heralds, or any of the fearsome Malekhai, higher-ranking Herald-Knights of the Leviathan to suggest that the forces they have feared and anticipated have begun to move against them.  Of course it is only a matter of time before they do and all the more reason for him to have misgivings. As always the calm before the tempest is the more frightening, the more treacherously deceptive. For waiting is nothing more than delaying the inevitable, which almost always finds a way to sidestep all precautions and pre-empt even the most efficient methods for minimizing potential risks.

On top of that Sorey is growing up in a very healthy, normal, human way. Humans grow a little bit faster in this new world or perhaps it only seems so to Zenrus who, despite being older by at least ten thousand years, hasn't been around that much to make accurate observations as to how different rules might apply to different humans living in different mortal realms.

He finds himself wondering at that. So what rules might the gods impose this time? What rules might apply to using the artes of the seraphim should they need those ancient powers for their own protection? How would the turpitude of the Malevolence manifest itself in this old, tired place where the human heart seems to have grown accustomed to every known form of evil and has even managed to use it to its own advantage for the sake of its own survival?

Irony of ironies that they should be brought to this world among other mortal worlds out there... to be resurrected in the final battleground, to witness the final death march before everything is wiped clean of contradictions. But to what ends is this final war going to be fought? Whose terms will define the rules of engagement? Would the gods of Celestia dare shake the foundations of the Leviathan, the throne of the Five Eternal Gods, once and for all and congeal all its remaining power to confront its ancient enemy, _The True Lord and Origin of the Malevolence_ also known by that forbidden name as the _Insidion,_ the god of absolute oblivion?  Or would another Vessel be appointed, another tool such as the Shepherd, someone capable of channeling the power of all the heavenly beings, no less than the power of the Leviathan? Or would the _Innominat_ finally awaken from their slumber of grief after suffering the eternal loss of the very sanctuary they vowed to protect?

Whatever happens, the seraphim would have to stand aside this time. They have lost far too many companions, lost two wars and broken all new and ancient alliances they've forged with both mortals and immortals. Even their unmarked graves blindly testify to the ravaged and forgotten chronicles of the weak and the dead that formed their ranks.

And to think that Sorey is only sixteen... by no means is that age prepared for what's to come... by no means is that age ready to understand the secrets of the past or to read the signs of the future written like a cipher in the shadows of this cryptic present. With neither a mother nor a father to stand by him in these difficult times that he needed them most, Sorey's human side must be just as lost and confused as the Shepherd's humanity from before. Then again, what does he, Zenrus, know of the former Shepherd's life? What does he really know about Sorey? As Sorey's remaining guardian and protector, he should have been more of a constant companion rather than an occasional support, a convenient provider, an invisible presence...

Zenrus knows he needs to sit down with the boy one of these days to have a long talk about everything... everything Sorey needs to know, everything that can be known, everything that matters to them both, including the life of that one precious soul they would tear heaven and hell to save.

If it can be saved... 

Involuntarily, Zenrus felt the page beneath his fingers become alive again, as if it was there for the first time. He knew that was unlikely. He has been reading Selene's book for answers, for secrets he might have missed. It was hard enough that she had to carry the burden of so many past lives, so many heartaches having to be relived over and over for the sake of an answer that wouldn't be found.

An answer that not even _The Book of Prophecy_ may reveal so openly. Zenrus could almost feel Serene's soul faintly speaking through the pages. She too must have felt the same anguish, the same torture of writing something so close to the truth that just wouldn't reveal itself before it's time...

But such is the fate of a Soul of Light.

Zenrus flicks a look on the page, sensing the quiet humming of the words in his ears, like the lost sound of a passing breeze.

 

  _Amidst shaken realms and broken stars_

_In a land cleaved and forgotten_

_His_ _voice sings of the Will and the Word_

_The Word and the Will_

_An encompassing sound_

_A silent prayer_

_Sung like a a lullaby_

_On the graves_

_Of the living_

 

He remembers a sad smile behind tears that wouldn't fall and a gentle hand seeming to catch these words from her own quivering lips: _"I die only to remember these words... these words... For him, Zenrus..."_

Zenrus clutches his chest. The more unbearable pain is the pain of regret and remorse... the pain that never heals, whose scars bury themselves deeper in the recesses of the mind no memory can touch without bleeding. He lets desperate fingers reach for his cellphone. There is no better time to talk than now.

He hopes Sorey is ready to listen.

 

**o-----)o(-----o**

 

If it wasn't polite, Sorey wouldn't stifle a yawn in front of the team  manager to keep him from knowing how bored he was. His friend Sergei, former captain, now manager of the team, had asked him _formally_ (was there ever a time the reticent senior loosened up?) if he could come to the convocation party to make a speech. The Coach thought it would be a good idea to let the newbies participate in the practice matches to gear them up for next year's competition. That being said, Sergei thought it might even be a _better_ idea if Sorey could give some pointers, boost his team mates' morale by saying some positive things about the Coach's new  _killer_ training program (which was actually tantamount to asking Sorey to lie just a _little_ bit).

Sorey was of course only too happy to oblige, but as soon as he found himself in the company of his jocular team mates his enthusiasm dissipated like steam. No amount of self-convincing can make the convivial atmosphere more tolerable to his senses, to his body that screamed to be somewhere else.

That _somewhere else_ is just a number away. But for some illogical reason, he would rather drive himself crazy thinking about what to say than actually making the call and leaving everything to chance.

Sorey took a peek at his cellphone. His battery was alarmingly low even when he had left more than half of his messages and missed calls unanswered. Scrolling down the list of unrecognizable numbers in his message box--those of random fans, haters, strangers waiting to try his patience--his eyes almost widened with panic as the word  _fiancée_ came up. Ten text messages, fifteen missed calls. No matter what his feelings were or might have been, he didn't want that person to think he was deliberately being cold or insensitive, especially when _she_ deserved so much more sincerity, so much more kindness and attention and concern... when, to be absolutely honest, she's one among a few he would never want to hurt deliberately in any way.

He suddenly wished there was some way he could make a detour in his life, avoid all the humps and hurdles and live the way he really wanted. But is there even such a thing as having your cake and eating it too? Wouldn't it be too selfish of him to want only the attention of that _other_ someone, whose soft, flustered, lavender glances were too beautiful, too mesmerizing for words? Whose silver beauty stands out too easily making Sorey's knees go weak on him, his groin heat up like he was about ready to-- 

Sorey felt the familiar throbbing and shook his head violently. No, this _can't_ be, not here anyway. He must be hopelessly hopeless.

Thank god his cellphone's humming pried his thoughts away from those unholy thoughts. Looking down, Sorey felt his heart stop as if the air had suddenly ran out of oxygen. His fingers must have brushed against the name and number on the screen and so his cellphone automatically began dialing it. Now that unmistakable name is flashing like a red beacon of panic and excitement and a whole rollercoaster of emotions that felt like heaven and doom breathing in one breathless breath.

_Mikleo._

Sorey wondered if he could even say hello. 

 **o-----)o(-----o**  

 

"Honey, can you check your phone on your way? You left it on the table and it's ringing. Must be urgent, you'll never know."

Mikleo had just come out of the bathroom with a towel over his head and a powder-blue cotton bathrobe (that seemed to have been in constant use since he was a younger, _shorter_ kid) loosely draped on his soaking wetness. Mrs. Rulay gave him a playful scratch on the head, ruffling the towel on his hair and causing it to fall unbalanced on one side. She was messing with him, of course. It was clear that Mikleo loved symmetry in all things and even the slightest signs of disarray could ruffle his otherwise cool temper.

"Mom, c'mon, that's almost annoying!"

Muse gave her son's ear a playful tweak. "Don't be such a meanie. I'm off to work and you're my dose of vitamin C, all right?"

Mikleo raised an eyebrow. "I'd have you know comparing me to vitamin C isn't all that flattering! I'm sure you can think of something more endearing or... or literary, at least!"

"Sorry hon, but I've given up being poetic a long time ago. Now answer your phone, okay? I'll lock the door on my way out. Make sure to do the same if ever you need to leave the house, all right?"

"Uh-huh. I don't have to remind you to be safe, okay? And you know I won't forgive you if you leave me for anything or anyone."

She gave him a teasing half-smile. "Don't you think I should be the one saying that, my little prince?"

Mikleo perks his head at that. "Stop with the  _little_ okay? _Prince_ will do just fine!"

Muse laughs, grabbing her thermos as she slings a small, black bag on her right shoulder and pulls out a set of keys from its side pocket. "Okay, fine, gocha... Just call me if anything comes up. And don't forget to text the usual cheesy stuff before going to bed."

"Mom, you know cheesy stuff is my kind of thing. Even if it kills me."

"Right, just wanna make sure my hon's perfectly safe. Bye!"

Mikleo shook his head and picked up his cellphone, which has been ringing forever.

"Hello?"

The number wasn't in his contacts so he didn't have any idea who it was.

There was an interminable pause. Mikleo felt like repeating himself. "Hel--"

"Mikleo?"

The voice has that resoundingly vibrant pull to it, making him feel as if his body was the taut string of a harp and Sorey's voice a delicate finger coaxing mellifluous melodies from the wires. Mikleo almost dropped his phone as soon as he realized it was really him, Sheppard. That overflowing cheer, that sweltering warmth, the feeling akin to a summer pool drowning you into its cool, emerald depths...

All right, that's just stretching it a little too far. He drew a deep breath.

"Uhh... S-Sorey?"

"Yeah."

Mikleo was expecting him to explain why he called, but since he punctuated that one really quickly, he found himself struggling to fill in the awkward gap. And to think he's _never_ good at these things... random, spontaneous, out-of-the-blue things...

"Uhh... is there... a problem?"

Sorey can barely hear anything but his heartbeat. "Sorry?"

Mikleo was confused. "Sorry for what? I'm not sure why you're apologizing..."

"Uh, no, no, my bad..." Sorey wanted to punch himself. "I couldn't hear you, that's all."

Mikleo strained to catch any background noise that could be getting in the way. He wasn't sure but... "Are you in a party or something? There seems to be a lot of noise on your end."

Sorey looked around briefly and quickly made his way to an empty corner. "Uh, not exactly, just my team, nothing much. How about you?"

"I'm home. My mom has an early shift today so I thought I should make her dinner right after coming from school. Do you need anything right now?"

"Me?" Sorey was out of excuses even before he could think of one. "Do you wanna... uh... hang out or something?"

Mikleo wasn't sure he heard that right. "Excuse me?"

Sorey gulped down the last of his panic-stricken manly pride. He never had a firm one to begin with but since he has already waded this far into the river of taking chances, he might as well cross to the other side. "Is it okay if we... uh, hang out for a bit? Just for a snack or a soda, nothing much, really... though dinner is fine with me too... my treat, of course! I even know a place where you can get one of the best iced coffees around... I mean, they have all sorts of flavors, mint, fruit-even raspberry, which I'm sure you'd fall head over heels for! Uh, of course if there's anything else you prefer just let me know, no complaints here, promise!"

"W-wait, hold on, how-" Mikleo stuttered, not knowing exactly what to think of Sorey's offer. Then again, surely there have been stranger coincidences in history so how can he risk the assumption that Sorey knows exactly what he likes? Even though, admittedly, his ultimate, one-and-only secret weakness is _really_ just that: iced coffee with a little bit of peppermint and raspberry. And by _secret_ , Mikleo means what it means: it's very rare for anyone to know... not even Edna does...

Sorey was in a panic. "Mikleo, is something wrong? Just tell me what it is, I'll-I'll do anything-I mean I'm-"

"Uh, it's not that, it's just-" Mikleo shook his head, though it was obvious Sorey wouldn't see _that_. "I guess I was just overthinking some stuff as usual. Don't get me wrong, but I just find it strange that you should mention something I _do_ like a lot-"

"H-hey, I bet there are millions out there who'd go crazy for coffee with mint and uh... raspberry." Sorey started scratching his right cheek.

"Yeah right, I take it that you're trying to be funny."

Sorey looked down at his feet. "Ha ha..."

Mikleo gave a low sigh. "Never mind. I'm just curious that you called out of the blue just to invite me when we hardly know each other, like is it really okay for you to have dinner with someone you've just met? But of course, I-I'm not suggesting it's weird or extraordinary it's just, uh, sheesh..." Mikleo hardly noticed he was whispering nervously to himself. "Gods, this is getting pretty awkward..."

Sorey's laughter couldn't disguise his amusement as he held the phone to his cheek fondly. Somehow that contact was soothing to him, making it seem as if they were almost touching even though it was just their voices. He could sense Mikleo's hesitation and the somewhat flustered complaint that will surely follow.

He was right.

"Hey, Sheppard, mind telling me what's _really_ going on? You're not trying to make fun of me, are you?"

"Never, of course not, my Regal Majesty!" Sorey was quick to deny teasingly, making Mikleo suddenly wish the ace athlete and playboy would act like the rumored badass that he had been warned about. Talking to him like this was hardly something he was prepared for. Even his teasing sounded just a wee bit childish, not even faintly malicious as he was rather expecting, thanks to all the rumors about the soccer captain.

Mikleo still can't help wincing though. "Great Sheppard. I'd have you know, next to some _other_ _Royalty_ out there, I'm pretty modest and rather unpopular!"

" _Pretty_ modest..." Sorey chuckled again. "I'll remember that. Oh, and drop the Sheppard, please. It's just Sorey, remember?"

Mikleo huffed. "Can I drop this conversation as well? Geez, it seems you called just to have fun at my expense, _Sorey!_ "

"Okay, all right, I'll stop, sorry, my bad." Try as he might though, Sorey could hardly keep himself from chuckling with a breathless laugh despite the obvious sound of Mikleo's exasperated sigh. He wondered how hearing his name spoken so casually by Mikleo could make his heart race, but for now, he had to exhale to keep his focus.

"Say, to be honest, I just wanna get to know you a little more, and believe it or not, it's not _that_ strange to ask-uh-I mean, invite people out the first time you meet them. I guess finding people with similar tastes or people who sort of remind you of things that are close to the heart is kinda special, sort of..."

 _Crap what am I saying or even thinking?_ Sorey felt his heart drum in his chest as his breath caught in his throat. He recognized the maddening urge to say something he's been keeping for so long, which made him lose his concentration for a moment at least. He shook his head.

"Uh, Sorey," Mikleo felt more baffled than embarrassed at the uncanny discomfort in Sorey's voice. "Are you talking about coffee just now, I mean, it's _just_ coffee, right? I can't think of anything else that's special to be honest..." 

Sorey felt a wave of relief pushing inside of him, almost glad that Mikleo didn't think much of it. On hindsight though, he wondered whether it would have been better if Mikleo did. Then again, what would he have said or done if that had been the case? Sorey shook his head in order to clear away those cobwebs of vague could-have-beens that were making him uneasy. There's no reason to overthink this, not yet at least.

"Uhmm... hey, I-I didn't mean to make you feel awkward or anything if I did. But, anyway, uhmm... Mikleo... so... like what I've been meaning to ask... will you have dinner with me? Uh, if you're not into it, at least let me treat you to the best coffee I know... you won't regret it I promise! Please?"  

Even with that half-choked request that sounded so cloyingly sweet and polite and too charming to refuse, Mikleo found himself hesitating. Of course, there was little reason for him to be evasive actually, but still... _So what if Sheppard is a guy anyone will kill for to be alone with, even for just 6 seconds?_  

Somehow, the effort to stay away from the rumored badass player must be half-hearted for his mouth was faster than his mind.

"It-it's fine, I guess." Then his awareness did a back-flip. "But it's a Monday, and you must have tons of homework like everyone else, don't you?"

"Hey, no worries, I'll try not to take too much of _our_ time. But..." Sorey's voice trailed off with a slight note of seriousness and suppressed excitement. "...if you can spare me a few minutes, there's something-I mean I want you to have a look at something of mine."

For some reason, Mikleo felt his cheeks flush. "Uh, I-I'm sorry, but can you please be clear on that point?"

Mikleo's flustered voice was so cute Sorey found himself giggling in spite of his own nervousness. "I've written something, that's all and I wanna show it to you! You might wanna help me out with it a little... if that's okay. At least you'd have an idea what my _C-_ is pretty much about."

Mikleo turned a shade darker, wondering how many stupid assumptions he's gonna make from here on, particularly in connection with the notorious soccer team captain and campus heartthrob. The mere fact he's describing him that way makes him almost cringe at his own atrocious subconscious. "I-I'm okay with that, I guess."

Sorey would have said something to lighten up the mood but his phone had started blinking a warning. "Oh, gods, sheesh, my phone's almost out! Uh, Mikleo, is it all right if you text me your address? I have my student's license so I hope it's okay to drive to your place and pick you up."

Mikleo was speechless. He almost forgot this was Sorey Sheppard. If he flies in his private jet, it shouldn't be any more amazing.

"Uh, well, you're the one driving so are you sure it won't be a bother?"

"Nah, even if it is I wouldn't mind all right? Uh, bye and, uh, thanks so much Mikleo!"

Sorey stared at his cellphone hard right after ending that call.

He couldn't believe it. Mikleo just said yes and they're going to have some time to themselves for the first time in the longest while...

Even if the wait was only on his side of things.

 

 **o-----)o(-----o**  

 

It wasn't hard to tell where Sorey's car was parked because it was red and flashy, like the smile on his doofus face the moment their eyes met when Mikleo peeked at him from the tiny crack of the door he opened with a half-nervous stare. Sorey looked cool as usual. He had changed out of their school uniform into a pair of beige jeans, a plain black shirt with a V-neck that was rather deep, and a fashionable pair of dark shades to match it, which Mikleo suspects must have some less practical use (since most celebrities must hate some degree of public attention when they're supposed to be having some fun time to themselves). He also had a cap casually sitting on the hump of one muscled shoulder, which he was obviously thinking of wearing in case he needed further disguise. But since it was getting darker, he removed the shades and threw the cap on his shock of chestnut-brown hair, ruffling it even more.

Sorey's rough, disheveled look only brought in greater relief those much-rumored, bad-ass, killer charms that complemented his geeky, boy-next-door appeal. Mikleo looked away as he struggled to say something to cover the awkward pause.

"Uh, so, what place do you have in mind?"

Sorey flashed him his usual, blindingly radiant, holy beatific smile, not bothering to hide the way his gaze beamed at Mikleo's pristine appearance. It made him decide that the combination of white, black, and aquamarine blue was a perfect complement to Mikleo's naturally pale skin, that, like his hair, had an almost ethereal, silvery-translucent sheen to it that called Sorey's attention like a red flag. 

There was just too much creamy skin showing, making it tempting to imagine how that would feel...

Sorey felt himself sweating like before, when they first talked at the hallway outside the faculty office. This time, however, a mild heat seems to be pooling in the pit of his stomach, a slightly uncomfortable feeling that resembles something like... He would have screamed a loud 'no' in denial if he wasn't able to check himself in time, but the thought was already there, nagging at him and making him feel guilty. He looked away from Mikleo, forcing himself to entertain any _other_ distraction to keep these disturbing thoughts from surfacing and embarrassing him in more ways than he cared to admit.

Mikleo frowned curiously. "Is there a problem?"

Sorey winced, not in reaction to what Mikleo said, but to his own imagination that seemed determined to expose his shame. "Nah, I was just thinking about uh, what the team manager said a while ago... about the practice matches next week." Sorey gave Mikleo a sheepish grin, wondering if that lie was too obvious.

"You really love sports, don't you?"

Sorey wasn't sure how to answer that, if there were any innuendos he should be wary of, which might negatively influence Mikleo's opinion of him. But his brain didn't seem up to it, feeling clogged and out of focus. "I... guess that's why I'm on the team? How about you?"

"I don't even think about it."

Sorey winced. He had that coming. This is Mikleo after all, the school's most accomplished, most brilliant prodigy to date, what did he expect? _That's my three mistakes in a row and counting._

Giving Sorey a furtive glance, Mikleo wondered what had suddenly dampened the star athlete's brimming confidence. Was it something he said, maybe his reply sounded too antagonistic, was that it? Although the better part of him regretted that _blunt honesty_ , the smart-ass side of  him rationalized it as _cool indifference_. But no matter what argument he could think of, Mikleo felt his shortcomings. He couldn't help but wonder why it seemed so difficult for him to come up with something _normal_ to say.

Normal will be just fine, no need to overwork his brain cells over something like a casual conversation. 

Mikleo cleared his throat. "Look, Sorey, you can still change your mind, it's no big deal. As I said, it's Monday and-"

"N-no way!" Sorey burst out a little too excitedly, making Mikleo step back with widened eyes. "I've already made plans, sort of, I mean...  I'm not so sure if you know the place, but it's a pretty elegant café outside High Street. Uh, of course, if you want something more conventional, I can take you somewhere different. I mean, just like I promised, no complaints! Everything you like is fine with me..."

Mikleo frowned. "Uh, everything? Seriously?"

Sorey scratched his cheek. "Maybe everything that could fit my budget? Not the entire galaxy, I hope?"

Mikleo shook his head, wondering why he suddenly felt like smiling. "For as long as I have coffee, I'm good."

"I knew you'd say that. C'mon!"

As soon as they were settled in the car, Sorey leaned all the way to his side, pulling the strap of the seat belt across Mikleo's hip. Mikleo wasn't expecting the sudden closeness, ending up pushing Sorey away in panic. But even that reaction didn't seem to faze the ace athlete as he gave Mikleo one of his helpless chuckles.

"Uh, sorry about that, didn't mean to be touchy. I just wanted to make sure you're tucked real safe and sound. I'm your driver after all."

 _Whoa, my driver, sure thing Sheppard as if I can afford someone like you._ Face flushed, Mikleo looked away as if the view outside the window had suddenly become interesting. "Nice to know I'm in safe hands."

"I'm no knight in shining armor but..." Sorey felt his breath hitch. "... so long as I'm here, I'll make sure you're safe, Mikleo..."

Mikleo pressed his hand on the side of his seat, wondering why his heart started beating so fast. He blinked once, twice, wondering if everything was just a make-believe stored somewhere in his overactive subconscious. But it wasn't. This was no secret fantasy or illicit wish in some long-running daydream. Sorey Sheppard is real...

 _Too real, that's the problem._ Mikleo sighs and winces in his mind.

"Err... you all right?" 

Mikleo perked up. "Uh, never mind. It's just that your kind concern is making me feel like it's my last day on the land of the living."

"Hey, I'd let you know I'm a careful driver, Mikleo! I won't give you the tiniest scratch, all right? So you can rest your _porcelain beauty_ and just enjoy the scenery."

" _M-my_ _what_?" Mikleo knew he was glaring but couldn't help it. "Are you trying to be annoying this soon or is that supposed to be some sort of public secret joke?"

Sorey raised an eyebrow as he turned the ignition. "It would definitely bug me if any _other_  guy in school calls you that."

His voice sounded deadly serious for once. Mikleo almost lost his train of thought wondering why or how something so trivial could get the cool, level-headed team captain looking miffed, with a heavy, glazed expression that made his eyes look almost metallic, double-edged.

Mikleo exhaled slowly, wondering if it were his fault for dampening the mood in the first place. "Look, it's nothing to me, I don't mean to be oversensitive about stuff like that. Just-just don't call me that when I'm hungry or you'd owe me a slice of blueberry cheesecake besides my favorite coffee."

Sorey leaned a little over sideways. "Uh, are you hungry right now?"

Mikleo felt his stomach make a small, growling reply to that. "Quite, I think."

"Well then, you're gonna get your blueberry cheesecake even if I have to beg and grovel for their pastry chef to make one!"

"Beg and grovel, are you sure?" Mikleo couldn't help grinning. "I find that hard to imagine."

Sorey laughed. "Well, there's always a first time for everything!"

Mikleo couldn't figure out Sorey Sheppard as a seemingly childish exuberance washed over the soccer captain's face completely.

 _Careful there. Charm is a secret dagger more deadly than beauty._ Damn that inner voice again! Mikleo steeled his thoughts. 

No, there's absolutely no reason to overthink this. He's probably just not used to being in the company of the likes of Sheppard or of hot, player-celebrity types in general. Besides, it's not like anyone gets to spend his time with a popular heartthrob like him every day... and that's just about where the problem lies.

Mikleo isn't certain if he's ready to hang around a guy who's getting to be just a bit too distracting for comfort. 

 

**o-----)o(-----o**

 

"Heeeyyy, Aliiisha... over here!!!"

"Rose?"

The young woman whose hair is the perfect color of her name and an evening sky caught between late afternoon and twilight waved frantically back like an eight-year-old who hasn't seen her childhood friend since they were toddlers. Right now her hair looked as untamed as her sparkling blue eyes, partially hidden beneath a navy blue cap with the lopsided word ARMY sewn on the front. Her navy blue shorts and gray-splotched t-shirt looked loose instead of tight-fitting though she had a lithe, slender figure to flaunt. In fact, her short pink jacket was about the only thing feminine about her as she took long strides to meet the young, sophisticated-looking blonde in a tiny white and pink summer dress smiling back at her, her bare neck and shoulders attractive enough to make every guy stare or give her second glances at least.  

"Yeah, who else are you expecting, princess? Your knight  in shining armor? He called me this morning to ask if I could come over to pick you up. How's the trip? You skipped school just to see your dad, right? Hope he's doing better..."

Alisha nodded warmly at that. "Thanks, Rose, in fact he _does_ seem to be doing a lot better than last month. I'm so happy I got to spend some time with him. I wish I didn't have to cut our reunion short, but it's almost midterm week and I have papers to finish before that so here I am!"

"Are we suddenly so grade-conscious or what?"

"I'm hungry. You wanna grab a sandwich or some burger and fries? I know this café that's cute and warm and cozy. It's not so classy-elegant but I know how you hate that, so maybe we can go there for dinner and hang out a little bit more, huh, Rose?"

"You're being so nice, princess! I wonder if you're just trying to steer the subject or if someone's simple-minded tastes are finally rubbing off on you?"

"For starters, I _am_ always nice! And second, I'd have you know, Sorey's definitely not simple minded! He's such a really, really nice guy..."

"So, defending the knight  this early in the conversation? Shucks, nothing much has changed about you, I can see that!"

Alisha averted her face, suddenly looking thoughtful as she casually counted off a number of things in her mind, spreading her fingers apart like a tiny delicate fan. "Hmm... I think I know exactly what you like! A double-bacon cheeseburger with a ring of pineapple and tomato, and a big glass of coffee-chocolate milkshake with a dash of peppermint! It's your all-time favorite and I know it by heart!"

"Geez, Alish, you're really making a big effort for me, and since I'm such a lowlife anyways, I'd take the bait! But seriously, have you and Sorey been you know... doing anything new lately? Like... has he ever tried to make out with you even once?"

Alisha poked Rose's forehead with a pastel-colored fingernail. "Shut up Rose! You're being so obscene!!!"

"Obscene? Whaddaya mean? This is the twenty-first century, pretty lady, not the middle-ages for god's sake! Don't tell me you haven't even done any pecking yet! I mean, I can't believe real lovebirds in cages have less reserve in their romantic feathers than you two!"

"I'm not gonna give in to that kind of pressure! I know real romance is always willing to wait!"

"My butt!" Rose gives her an exaggerated scowl. "You mean not even kissing? Petting? You haven't made it to first base after all this time? What the fuck's  _so_ wrong with both of you?"

"Is it so hard to imagine couples not being into that physical, irreversible interface so early in their relationship?"

Rose gave her a withering glare. "Cut the crap, you mean _sex_ don't you? Well, if you're just being shy, I'd understand if you wanna keep it a secret from your best buddy Rose! But please, you don't have to sanitize Sorey in my imagination, girl! He's my friend too after all and I feel I'm entitled to knowing him from all sides, including his filthy, murky, pig-sty whatever side, if there's ever anything  like that at all! Besides..."

Rose wriggles her eyebrow at Alisha. "It's not like I'm gonna break my friendship with Sorey in the name of your innocent, pristine, holier-than holy damsel-hood! And, even if you definitely look like one, I'm sure you're not some saintly nun who prefers the cloister to the bedro--"

"Cut it out!" Alisha puts a finger on Rose's lips. "I'm not so sure I get you... I mean... it's perfectly all right being this way with Sorey, and I'm just happy and so lucky he respects me and waits 'til I'm ready. Isn't that the way it should be?"

Rose winced visibly. "Just make sure he knows you're waiting for him and  _only_ him. You know, guys can easily get lost in the forest of temptation and get nibbled by cute little wolves without minding it too much."

"I'm not even sure I get that either but..." Alisha wraps one arm around Rose's neck in a quick, tight hug, another arm wrapping itself around her slender waist. "I'm so happy you're  here for me, Rose... 'cause to be perfectly honest, I don't know what I'd do without you to keep me on my feet! It's not like I'm helpless without you, of course...  I mean, just having you around to talk to already means a lot..."

"Hey, whoever said we're the weaker sex?" Rose's hand lingered on Alisha's shoulders a bit longer than usual, caressed the softness of her cheek a bit more gently than she was used to as Alisha leaned forward, letting their noses touch just ever so slightly. "Of course, I prefer the fairer one, and definitely, it would work like a charm if Sorey has half my guts and manly charms, hah! But I _am_  happy for you, Alish... so stop being such a hopeless romantic, okay? It's not that bad to begin with. And yeah, feel free to be helpless when I'm around. It's not like I can take advantage of someone who's got a belt in martial arts like you."

Alisha couldn't help giggling, covering her mouth a little. "That's a strange thing to say, but thanks!"

Rose gazed back at the beautiful blonde beside her, wondering for two seconds how those mesmerizing, topaz-green eyes could be coldly serene and glassy vulnerable one moment and just bursting with color the next. It was admirable but frightening to some extent, as if anytime, those deep emotions she's been hiding can rise like a raging wave bringing with it the power of a full-blown tsunami.

Then maybe, Alisha's _that_ sort of person... someone who prefers to watch and wait and endure until the flame has become a seething fire that can rouse a deep, soundless, slumbering volcano within.

Water and fire all in one. Not bad at all. The only thing missing is a little wind to turn it all into a calamity...

Rose blinked hard, wondering why she was entertaining those kinds of thoughts in the first place. Alisha blinked back just as curiously.

"Uh, Rose? Are you okay?"

"Me? Good thing you noticed `cause I've been wondering when we're really having that dinner you've been talking about! I mean, staring at each other like romantic idiots out here sure is something, but it's making me hungry! I'm soo starving Alish!"

Alisha smiles. "All right, my treat, but you drive, all right?"

Rose swings an arm around her slim shoulders. "What am I here for anyways, babe? You're talking to a junior hot racer who's won more trophies than her own dad... bless his soul, though. But don't worry, I'll drive _real_ slow today. Just a little bit faster than a running ostrich if you like."

Alisha couldn't help giggling one more time at that. "Whatever you say, Rose." 

 

**o-----)o(-----o**

 

"Here you go Mikleo! Two blueberry cheesecakes, two coffees with a dash of peppermint and some raspberry topping, a big bacon cheeseburger for me, one large fries, a raspberry shake, and a cup of their pumpkin mousse special!"

"Pumpkin mousse?" Mikleo asked, eyeing the orange jelly-like soft-and-firm dessert in a small transparent cup sitting in the middle of the tray that looked full and heavy as Sorey held it on both ends. "First time I've heard of it. Is it really good?"

"Of course! I want you to try something different and quite amazing, really! And seriously, we're not leaving until you finish all the desserts, all right?"

Mikleo gave him a wry smile. "Yeah, I knew you're gonna ruin my diet and let me kill myself jogging all those extra pounds away."

Sorey's eyes shimmered with a peculiarly soft expression with just the slightest hint of mischief. "What are you even talking about? There's no one here who's as amazingly thin and limber as you, Mikleo, so I don't think you've any right to complain about your figure! Besides..."

Sorey made an exaggerated sweep of the room with his warm, bright, emerald eyes. "Aren't you scared of making everybody here crazy jealous because you're making them all look bad right next to you?"

Mikleo elbowed him with a deep scowl on his face, though Sorey couldn't help but notice how his cheeks seemed more flushed than usual. "If you don't shut up, Sorey, I'd be more than happy to let them punch you like hell for that abominable observation."

"Okay, cool it, I'm gonna behave from here on. But hey, don't you think the tables outside are much much cooler than here? We could even gaze at the stars and whisper our secret wishes!"

"Sheesh, while chomping our dinner away? I'd probably be doing something like that if I were five or six, but...  I mean, don't you think we're too old for that kind of cheesy stuff? Unless we're _trying_ to be just like those teenagers in the movies. Sappy, romantic, hopelessly naïve types. I shiver just imagining it."

Sorey looked away, wondering how something so trivial could dampen his mood and expectations so quickly. He mumbled quietly, more out of politeness. "Uh, sure thing, Mikleo."

Finding their table, Sorey felt his knees go weak on him as he watched Mikleo scoop out a delicate spoonful of the dessert and let it slip so gracefully into his perfectly-curved mouth. It was such a natural gesture, such a novel one for him too that Sorey seemed mesmerized with the simplicity of the detail.

Here is Mikleo as real as real can ever be, sitting in front of him under a full moon, with all the stars and constellations as their witness.

This is real. He wanted to pinch himself many times. _This is so real..._  

"Uh, you haven't touched your food yet, Sorey. Is there a problem? I can't believe you're not hungry."

Sorey found himself scratching his right cheek self-consciously with an index finger. "It's kinda strange actually that I'm always hungry in every date I've been to."

Mikleo gave him a quick, surreptitious glance. "Well, that explains it. This hardly qualifies as a date... I mean, with us being guys..."

Mikleo finds himself hesitating as if he has just implied something he wasn't supposed to. He looked sideways at Sorey, careful not to change his expression a hair. "Uh, by the way, I didn't mean to suggest anything by stating the obvious there. Not even once did it occur to me that there is the remotest possibility of you... or me... I mean..."

Sorey winked at him. "Gay is cool."

Mikleo felt his stomach giving a violent lurch, from what emotion he could hardly tell. In any case, his panic must have caused him to be suddenly deaf. "Y-you're saying?"

"Never mind." Sorey felt like resting his chin on one hand as he stared at Mikleo's somewhat endearing, baffled look of utter disbelief. He chuckled. "Your coffee's getting cold, uh, I mean warm, Mikleo."

Mikleo gave the shrinking ice cubes atop the rich, creamy, frothy surface a furtive glance before looking away. "I... I guess it must be embarrassing to have a guy in front of you suggest something like that, I wasn't even being sensitive enough... and it was even more stupid of me to bring it up, like..." Mikleo looked down again at the melting puff of white cream topped with raspberry still floating on his coffee. "It's fairly obvious that you're a real guy, I mean... everybody knows that, after all you're no less than the captain of a tough team and with your good looks, it's not surprising that every girl in school wants to-I mean-" 

"H-hey, I never did that stuff with anyone yet, 'cause if there's anyone I want to do it with it's-" Sorey waved his hand in front of him, looking flustered and panicked all of a sudden as the realization of what he was about to say suddenly dawned on him. He looked away guiltily though a greater part of him wanted to deny those inner thoughts just as much. "I think what I was trying to say was _gay_ isn't a topic I'd casually play around with, knowing how offensive it would be if I did."

Mikleo blinked at him a few times. "No need to apologize, I mean, it's not like we have to worry about anything like that."

Sorey shook his head. "Seriously, I have no issues with being gay or straight. I like everyone for who they are. I know that sounds cliché and absolutely sentimental but... really, I'm not the type to stick to labels. I guess that's hard to believe coming from someone who advertises just about anything but... outside all of that pretentious posing, I know there's more to life than what others around us are letting on. It's really just a matter of learning to think for ourselves and taking risks...  and making choices for the sake of those dearest to us... or maybe even friends we should never let go." 

"Th-that's kinda profound," Mikleo sighs with a small smile. "But thanks for sharing that point of view. I appreciate it."

Sorey beams one of his dopey smiles. "That aside, I'm actually enjoying this... uh... date... well, whatever it is. First time I'm doing it with another guy, not that rules say I can't. I mean, who cares anyway, it's my life."

Mikleo frowns. "Sheesh, stop teasing all right! But since we're already on that subject, I'm just curious... I mean, with all your experience, there's hardly any doubt you handle dates pretty well. I mean dating must be a lot of pressure for other guys, like asking the right girl out, making sure she feels special and well taken care of... I know a guy last year who told me how he practically throws up in every single date. I actually felt bad for him, I mean, how can you enjoy something that makes you so damn nervous?"

"Well," Sorey grins awkwardly. "I notice I can eat a lot better when I'm not too self-conscious about the person I'm with... which, honestly, is a good thing too. But with dates, I guess the reason is something else, like maybe I just have other things on my mind, stuff about the team, Gramps, things like that... and all that stress just makes me awfully hungry and mindless of whoever's with me."

"You never can tell until you date someone you really like, I guess."

"Exactly." Sorey wasn't sure though why every nerve of him seemed so awake and sensitive, like some current of electricity has been running through it. He exhaled slowly and met Mikleo's curious stare with a smile. "I guess for a date to be special you have to be with someone who's absolutely special to you to begin with. Otherwise it's just going out and having forgettable fun."

"Because remembering is too short and forgetting is so long," Mikleo's eyes looked back at Sorey, returning the shimmering brightness, the irrepressible warmth that made Sorey's heart just skip several beats at once. "I think I completely get that now."

Sorey had to look away to keep his neck from burning with a slow blush that was fast making him sweat. "Easy for you to say! I don't think I'm lucky enough to be liked back by the exact same person I like, for example."

"Whoa, pleaassee!" Mikleo drawled exaggeratedly. "I don't think celebrities have any right to complain about that!"

"Oh yeah?" Sorey huffed. "Know what? There seems to be just that type of person around here who's not convinced that he should help out this poor, pitiful soul right in front of him, you know! In fact, all he needs to do is share a teeny, tiny bit of his cerebral skills to this lost soul but, _alas_ , even that seems a bit too much for him."

Mikleo scowls at the ace athlete's _charming_ attempt to be poetic.

"Hey, _cerebral_ 's a nice word but I don't think there's any person here that fits that description! Still, for argument's sake, I want you to know I love helping out! And I never said I didn't like you anyway!"

That was unexpected. For what it's worth, Mikleo seems oblivious of what he has just said, even though Sorey most definitely isn't. He continued to stare unblinkingly, almost too nervously in blissful disbelief as Mikleo carved a tiny spoonful of the cheesecake and slipped the bit of sweet, thick, syrupy texture into his pink mouth, relishing the flavor of fruit and cream that left a tiny spot on the corner of his lips.

Instinctively, Sorey reached out and dabbed at it gently with the tip of his thumb. "Sheesh, that was really cute."

Mikleo blushed the minute those words slipped out of Sorey. As for Sorey, he could only suppress so much of the warmth spreading all over his body as lavender eyes gave him a wide-eyed, curious stare before blinking away to look at the wall across them. Aware of the awkward moment but somehow enjoying it, Sorey found himself averting his gaze too. He knew he hasn't been doing much to cover the way he's been staring at Mikleo all night, imagining a whole range of things he shouldn't even be thinking right at that moment. Right now, he couldn't even control the blush that was fast becoming his standard response to Mikleo's flustered looks and wide-eyed stares. Then something just popped in his head. It was a miracle his brain didn't completely shut down from all that excitement.

"Uh, wait, there's something I've been wanting to show you, remember? It's a poem... uhh, I'm trying to write one that sounds like one at least. And you're the first person I'm showing it to, so please be honest enough to give me a fair judgment, okay?"

 _A love poem maybe? For a girl?_   But what use is it to doubt that playboy image firmly attached to Sorey like a last name? Mikleo's eyes grew wide with a sudden surge of curiosity and, maybe, frustration, anxiety? The mixture of feelings is weird and making him vaguely uncomfortable. It's an emotion and a moment his mind didn't like to dwell on. So with surprising composure, he took the piece of paper Sorey waved in front of him and began to read the lines aloud.

 

"Clear as crystal

Cold as ice

Your eyes like stars

Gaze back in time

This mantle of snow

Bathes every fiber of my being

With tender tears

I become nothing but a clinging vine

Wreathed in smiles

Lost in the riot of color

In the sea of faces

Time marches on

Sadder but wiser

And white as the hunger of snow

Sleeping on your palms

With cold, soundless feet."

 

"Hey," Sorey frowned at Mikleo in mock anger, watching the other boy's lips curve into a suppressed smile. "Why don't you just laugh your head off as honestly as you feel, instead of biting your lip like that just to keep me from getting embarrassed?"

"But Sorey," Mikleo teased without the tiniest bit of pretense this time. "This is really amazing! You've virtually managed to string together twelve clichés in a poem that's only sixteen lines long! And the whole thing doesn't even sound half as bad as I thought it might!"

"Sheesh, Mikleo, are you even trying to make me feel good about this? 'Cause somehow the word cliché hardly sounds like a compliment at all!"

"Of course not, I agree..." Mikleo grinned, not bothering to hide his amusement since he couldn't anyway. "But, quite honestly, the way you expressed them here... it's captivating and sort of original in a way... especially with those three final lines? Indirect metaphor, personification, synecdoche and metonymy all compact in one final, parting image. It's... it's almost as beautifully exotic and synchronic as a scientific mutation... and it sort of throws a different perspective on those typically prosaic expressions..."

Sorey leaned forward, scrunching his face at Mikleo with a helpless chuckle. "Benevolent muse... can you simplify that for me?"

Mikleo breathed a sigh, his lavender eyes softening, looking a little moved. It was the first time Sorey saw his eyes shimmer that way, with so many feelings hidden and rising all at once. "Look, I'm no artist but... what you have there is a composition that's no less beautiful even if some parts are unbalanced. It's what I'd like to personally call the locutionary grandeur of assymetries..."

Sorey was hardly listening. Mikleo's smile was beaming at him in such an unabashed, admiring way that he could almost touch it with his eyes, his lips, his soul, all of him...

And then it happened.

A heavy hand planted itself on the table right between their faces, forcing Sorey and Mikleo to look up.

The moment of truth was gone, like a veil of mist melting in the heat.

"Mikleo... gods... it's really you..."

Mikleo couldn't look away, too shocked and speechless with fear to register any other emotion.

Sorey made a move to block that penetrating gaze that seems to be eating at Mikleo like poison. "Hey, whoever you are--"

"Mikleo..."

Sorey couldn't help but notice how the guy's voice sounded so _deeply_ masculine--a little rough, almost husky, with a tinge of serious impatience that was difficult to ignore. But it was the way those cold, yet startlingly piercing blue eyes bore into Mikleo's own that made Sorey want to push him away.

"Hey, has it been that long? It's been only two years... and I know what I did was kinda hard to forget..."

When the guy touched Mikleo by the cheek with the side of his index finger, Sorey involuntarily reached out to swipe his hand away.

"S-Sorey, wait!" Mikleo was quick to stand up in time to push Sorey back down with a brush of his hand on the athlete's arm that looked tense and seemed about ready to throw a punch. Whether he was overestimating Sorey or imagining that possibility, Mikleo didn't have time to over-analyze as much as his natural impulse would allow. In fact, that slight contact would have been enough to distract him as it was the first time he dared touch someone for any reason... but the circumstances being what they were, Mikleo felt he needed to shield Sorey from whatever was about to happen. Not that he was ever good at predicting things like these but... getting Sorey involved... it was the only thing that was making him edgy and it wasn't even perfectly rational to begin with.

As for Sorey, he could only stare and hold himself back. If Mikleo is making an effort to stop him even when he had barely done anything to hurt or physically threaten this guy, then that could only mean... but still...

The guy leaned toward Mikleo and without any hesitation at all intertwined their fingers, making Mikleo bristle, his shoulders trembling with an obvious shudder that Sorey couldn't ignore. Sorey wanted to crush that guy's hand right there and then but the disgust churning in the pit of his gut was numbing him for some reason. It was the first time he felt anything like it: the hurting, paralyzing cold was there, dissipating the air in his lungs, making him feel almost like... dead water beneath a layer of ice.

This is bad. Sorey couldn't remember the last time he felt this miserable.

Then again, on hindsight, he knew exactly the last time he felt like this...

His eyes took in all the finer details about the guy: fine, slightly-tousled, ash-blond hair... cold, piercing-blue eyes, a sharp jaw, a sensitive mouth... broad shoulders and firm wrists keeping Mikleo in place.

 _Keep your damn fingers off him, you bastard!_ Sorey prayed his self-control would last this time.

"Look, Mikleo, I know who your friend is," the guy half-whispered in that heavy, masculine voice that was audible enough for Sorey to catch every sound and syllable, every hiss that made the tone even more intimidating, commanding. "So if you know what's good for you and him, you'd ask your new friend to stay out of this, all right?" 

Sorey got up but Mikleo's eyes darted toward him, looking panicked, confused, and a little guilty? Whatever it was, those lavender eyes stopped him mid-way, forcing him to lean back in his seat though his eyes never left Mikleo.

But every second was just making Sorey more angry. How can Mikleo let this guy leer at him and touch him like that without even once trying to pull away? The fact that the guy's fingers tugged at Mikleo's playfully, delicately, like he had a right to act so coy, to flirt without any inhibition at all was more than enough to make Sorey's breathing hitch. 

"We used to see each other back then, didn't we? What I felt, I was honest enough to say it, wasn't I? You couldn't have forgotten all of that, have you _?_ Though it's not like I can't be _better_ than this guy when it comes to making you feel good... and I'm pretty sure you still remember how I discovered that myself... in bed..."

Sorey slammed a hand up the guy's throat, raking his collar and tie. "You..." His fingers clawed at the guy's shirt as if intent on tearing it to shreds. "You take _that_ back you filthy bastard! YOU NEVER SAY THINGS LIKE THAT TO MIKLEO, GODS, YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW HIM, DAMMIT, YOU HEAR ME?"

Mikleo moved in Sorey's way. "Sorey!!! S-Stop, gods, j-just stop it all right!"

Sorey's emerald eyes smoldered, and it was strange for Mikleo to read a lot of pain in them. Sorey looked... hurt? But why? Mikleo knew he wasn't thinking straight anymore but whatever the reason was, Sorey shouldn't get mixed up in things like these... not when he's Zestiria's untouchable celebrity and prince royale, an icon with a reputation to protect.

And who is he right next to Sorey? A virtual shadow. A nobody. Right there and then, Mikleo knew what sacrifice he was being asked to make to avoid any more trouble, even if the fear was crushing him into tiny little pieces... 

Even if Sorey was offering himself up as a shield, ready to fight and defend against all odds.

Sorey probably thought he was the only one agonizing over that part. _No, this is my problem, and I don't need any hero to bail me out._

"Look, Sorey, as much as I appreciate your concern..."

"But Mikleo!" Sorey felt as if something worse than the end of the world is going to happen if he let him finish that sentence. "Are you seriously just gonna put up with this dickhead's filthy mouth? You don't have to put up with things you hate or hurt you, _not_ when I'm here, not when I can help even if you don't ask-"

A nasty chuckle made Sorey bristle and stop in mid-speech. "So you think you have a right to be his hero? Is Mikleo really worth all that much to you? Or are you speaking as a virgin who's dying to get laid... preying on someone who looks willing and helpless-"

"Why you..." Sorey thought he had enough, more than enough to smash someone's face past all remorse. "Mikleo doesn't deserve a jerk like me... but HE DOESN'T DESERVE A FUCKING LOWLIFE LIKE YOU EITHER!" 

Something latched onto his arm tightly and he was surprised to find Mikleo's fingers clenched on his bare, raw skin, his eyes downcast but obviously brimming with emotions. "That-that's enough, all right?" Sorey felt Mikleo's hand slip down his arm tentatively, finding its way to his wrist and holding onto that to push his fist away.

The feel of Mikleo's skin touching, grazing him was almost sensuous, and the fact that it wasn't supposed to feel that way did not change the way his body was reacting to it, drowning every little thought, making his knees melt from under him. 

"Just let this one go, I'd be fine. There's no reason to take it this far."

Sorey inhaled deeply, wanting to be calm, forcing himself to stay focused on his anger despite the distracting temptation that was making itself felt with Mikleo standing so close, breathing next to him.

The nearness, the gesture... Sorey felt a vague sort of pull, something close to gravity that felt so natural, so compelling he couldn't resist it. He wanted to stay by Mikleo's side. No matter the odds, he wanted to stay like this... as if he had been born just for moments like this, to protect, to keep Mikleo safe...

It was confusing, but it felt right. It almost felt like... old times... 

"Look, Mikleo..." He found his voice taking its normal tone, a little bit hushed but with all the anger gone as if that had just melted away by itself. "You don't have to act like nothing's wrong. Stop worrying about getting me into trouble, I don't care about that, I never did. Just get away from this bastard, your safety's more important..."

Mikleo looked down. "Sorey, I appreciate the gesture-"

"Then let's leave. I'll take you home, you don't have to worry about anything-" 

"No, that's not what I'm asking for." Mikleo met his gaze. Sorey was shocked to find those same lavender eyes giving him a cold, hard stare, as if they belonged to a starved, tortured animal that had nothing left but the insane yet useless instinct to kill. "You have absolutely no reason to decide that for me. My problem is not your concern. I'm not your burden. I don't need help." 

The dull, emotionless tone gripped him far more than the unflinching gaze. "But Mikleo!"

"Just stop, Sorey."

"I'm sorry, can't do that." Grabbing Mikleo by the shoulder, Sorey wanted nothing more than to shake him, to roil these negative emotions out of his system. But a better part of him wanted to be closer to Mikleo despite the seething cold of his words and glances. A part of him wanted to breathe into Mikleo's skin...

Even if Mikleo were to admit he was the devil himself, Sorey would still want to do the same. He would still want to brush all of those stupid hurts and agonies away with his lips, his fingers, all of him...    

But Mikleo was far from reaching. "Look, don't be an actor. The fact that we've just met, that we're not even best friends or anything makes it all the more reasonable for you to walk out of this. Just leave us alone."

Sorey gritted his teeth. "So is that how it is? You think I'm someone who doesn't care, a guy who can walk out of anything just like that?"

The blonde inched toward Mikleo. "You heard him. I don't think your services are wanted or needed as much as mine, at least..."

"I don't care!" Sorey grabbed the guy by the front of his shirt. "If you think I'd _ever_ leave Mikleo alone with you-"

"I said stop, Sheppard!"

The shift in reference, the way Mikleo reverted to a formality when he called out to him was hurting, making Sorey even more angry. He slammed his right fist down the table, unable to understand or believe anything that was happening at the moment. "You-you shouldn't make me stop from doing what I should, Mikleo! Not after everything that happened, everything you've been through... if only you understand half of that..."

Mikleo's emotions were spinning. There was no way he could let this drag on. Sorey should just leave, the sooner the better for him. He didn't deserve to be a witness to this, not like this...

"Sorey, to be honest I don't know what you're talking about and I don't care! This is none of your business so back off, all right?"  

 _So I'm the unwanted jerk, not him, is that it?_ Sorey looked away, keeping his eyes averted even as he struggled to keep his arm, his entire body from doing what it wanted... which was to hurt a particular tall, blue-eyed blonde or break something... some fingers of his maybe, or a rib if that won't be too much.

For his part, Mikleo hoped he sounded convincing enough to drive Sorey away, back to the safety of his insulated universe, back to his comfortable peace. It wasn't like he wanted to be left alone with the leech, but asking for Sorey's help, wouldn't that be criminal? True, there was nothing he wanted more than to stay away from the guy, that one mistake he made that earned him all those scandalously cheap, sleazy gossip in the Internet. He's the guy Mikleo met about two years ago before he transferred to Zestiria after qualifying for that sponsorship... the same unforgettable someone he wanted more than anything to forget and the reason he can't say the guy's name, not even whisper it in the deepest, darkest corners of his mind...

That face might be strikingly good-looking, perfectly chiseled and shaped like a sculpture, but Mikleo can't say it's sublimely beautiful or charmingly attractive. After all, that face has given him so many painful memories, the kind that haunted him in his nightmares, the stuff that earned him various obscenities... all that ruthless condemnation, that lewd name-calling from the same people who weren't satisfied to do those same hurtful things behind his back in school, as if giving him public insults in the Internet wasn't enough...

No, there are some things he won't be able to live down, not for many years... and memories of him will always be  _those things_ exactly.

But how come his body won't move to push this guy away? How come his mouth won't say those things that have hurt him for so long? To tell this godawful monster how disgusted he was, how he wished he would stay clear and disappear... vanish into fumes or smoke... anything intangible that cannot touch or hurt.

Mikleo felt the fear rocking his chest. Even though he was loathe with the bastard, he wasn't that much afraid of him. 

Mikleo knows he's more afraid of Sorey. He didn't want to say anything or do anything that might force him to reveal the truth about himself. Not when Sorey can hear, can find out things about him...

Filthy things. Dirty, perverted things...

But isn't that illogical? How can he care about what Sorey Sheppard thinks of him? Wasn't he resolved not to have anything to do with him anyway? But saying that now is pointless isn't it, because here he is killing himself with worry about Sorey finding out something shameless about his past.

 _Shameless, huh?_ Even his mind couldn't help sounding incredulous. _Why do I have to bother with useless things like that? It's not like I have something to lose in the first place. It's not like I haven't lost that already... I'm just being a hypocrite... trying to come off as clean... or innocent..._

_It's not like Sheppard would even care..._

A nasty-sounding chuckle broke through his thoughts.

"Relax, hotshot. It's not like you should be wasting your time here when someone like you can practically get _any_ one you like to satisfy your urges."

"I'm warning you..." Sorey's breath was ragged, and his chest was hurting as if he had been running for hours. "You fucking _lay off_ Mikleo 'cause I don't care what he says! If you as much as touch him or hurt him with your dirty-"

"So what if I do?" The blonde leaned back with a sneer, folding his arms across his chest. "You think he's clean? I don't mind if he isn't. Or maybe a virgin like you cares about that?"

"I'LL HIT YOUR FUCKING, FILTHY MOUTH IF YOU SAY ANOTHER WORD!"

Mikleo blinked. Fortunately the tables nearby had no customers. It would be scandalous if anyone found out that someone like Sorey was asking for trouble because a nobody like him couldn't handle his own issues or speak out to defend his own sorry ass. And to think Sorey must be clueless as to how an innocent dinner turned out into a nasty incident involving a masochistic teen who-didn't-know-any-better and a frustrated stalker who couldn't move on from a bad romance. 

This is definitely _not_ the kind of attention popular people need in their life... and definitely not how he wants Sorey to end his Monday night.

Mikleo winced. So there it is, he's really more worried about Sheppard than anyone, even himself. And he can't even help it.

"Hey, mister celebrity, you think filthy, rich bastards like you are fucking better than the rest of us, huh? Gonna call big daddy when you get bruised? You should understand  why Mikleo's protecting a wimp like you! Yeah, daddy's goldenboy can't get their hands dirtied, that's why!"

Sorey couldn't believe his ears. "Why you son of a-"

"Sorey, _please_ , I said don't!"

 _Please?_ The word was spoken softly but with a sort of strained desperation that was clear enough to make Sorey _really_ stop this time. When he shifted his gaze toward the silver-haired boy across him, he was shocked to see those lavender eyes looking so afraid and helpless... and he hadn't seen that look for a long time... not since _that_ time... and it was enough to make his blood freeze.

Sorey felt his eyes sting, his fingers curl desperately around the fabric that he could not let go, even as he tried not to choke the guy's breath out of him with that tightening hold at the front of the guy's shirt.  "M-Mikleo... this isn't..." He paused, struggling to keep himself in check but it wasn't working, not in a situation like this. "Look, I know this sounds weird, or insane, but I don't care about that anymore! I'm here now, Mikleo! I've always been here! All these years I've _never_ forgotten what happened... _not_ for a single minute even if you did!" 

The blonde shook himself loose as Mikleo pushed Sorey's hand away from the collar that he wasn't letting go. "Sorey, look, you're not making any sense... no one is...not even me..."

Sorey leaned forward, feeling his heart twist within him. "Mikleo, that's why I've been trying to find the right-"

"Hey, Mikleo, why don't we go somewhere quiet, just the two of us, all right? And as for you..." The guy gave Sorey a withering glare. "You better watch yourself. Big shots like you should just stay away knowing you _always_ have more to lose than anyone else."

And with a warning as simple as that, the guy grabbed Mikleo by the wrist, pulled him to his feet and dragged him away.

Sorey need not be told what was going on. Those raw emotions were nothing less than filthy, perverted, lustful, starving... all those disgustingly shameless desires expressed in the open like that were far too obvious to Sorey because... to be honest... 

 _No, that's not it, that's not me..._ _I will never be like that..._ Sorey knew he had no right to compare his feelings, to even _imagine_ having the same feelings. He just wanted to protect Mikleo, that's exactly why he's here isn't it? Because what happened eight years ago, the fact that he remembers every detail so clearly even if it was such a long time ago...

But Mikleo doesn't. And the moment Sorey has been waiting for... the chance to refresh those memories is now gone.

That said, this might not be the best time to make trips to memory lane.

He had been running, chasing after shadows for five minutes, maybe even more. But the darkness ahead of him seemed to just keep stretching farther and farther away, to an infinity that was making him vaguely aware that this was not the same place he knew. He seemed to be standing on a deserted parking lot of what appears to be an abandoned construction site, and there were vague noises of feet against gravel, of hushed, choked noises, whispers, even pleas that sounded desperate... Those sounds were increasing his panic and he couldn't even rationalize or suppress them well enough to keep himself focused. He couldn't even tell anymore if it was fear and anxiety over Mikleo that was making his hearing extra sensitive or if, perhaps, it was just his imagination playing tricks on him... and in such stressful moments, maybe even both...

Everything started to appear like some surreal horror movie... a nightmare like no other, or a forgotten memory slipping in and out of a dream.

He blinked hard, trying to clear his head and think through his racing heart. "Mikleo!" _Goddamit..._ "Mikleo!"

No, what happened eight years ago _can't_ be happening again. Not after he had waited for so long, tried to keep himself from getting too close...

Sorey can only hope he isn't too late _this_ time, whatever it is that's out there waiting for him or for them both. 

 

 

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	3. Part That's Holding On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorey meets someone he hardly expects and finds his heart more torn and confused and yet... stronger. Rose, on the other hand, confronts Alisha's feelings for Sorey head-on, taking a risk she knew might hurt her and Alisha in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me some time to update this fic. If the start is a bit abrupt, you can check out the last paragraphs of chapter 2... I made some revisions there which might clarify some things. Also, this chapter contains non-graphic rape and conversations with explicit and implied sexual content. For those who might feel disturbed by this kind of content, read with caution.  
> I changed the song as well (as of September 14, 2017), to suit the mood. I think more-angsty Sorey would fit the part better. :D
> 
> DISCLAIMER: The original story behind Tales of Zestiria and Tales of Zestiria the X belongs to Bandai-Namco and Ufotable respectively. Since the writer makes no profit from this labor of love and, in fact, struggles against shame and hopeless obsession every time she has to write an additional chapter for her self-pleasure and that of others like her, she respectfully makes a plea against any law suit. :D
> 
> Obsession has no shame, by the way. You've been warned. :D

**o)------------o)O(o------------(o**

 

_It all looks different now_

_But it was right in front of me_

_The memories fall around_

_Of everything I used to be_

_Can I let it go, when I still feel your echoes?_

_I watch_ _you disappear_

_But I can't make myself believe..._

_I gave it all, but you were fading_

_Where'd you go, all alone?_

_I couldn't stay..._

_Another fall through the dark of the shadows_

_I reach for you, only you_

_There's still a part..._

_A_ _part that's holding on..._

 

-originally by **Red** , "Part That's Holding On"; cover by **Sorey Sheppard** ,

from the album _ **Reminiscing: The Collection** , vol. II_

 

  **o)------------o)O(o------------(o**

 

 

Darkness ebbed like a tide and swept through the alley where Mikleo and his abductor unmistakably disappeared—becoming a suffocating, smothering shroud of gray that tapered around the dimly lighted corners, along a nondescript line of derelict buildings where moonlight flitted through broken walls and shattered cracks, weaving in and through the swarming shadows listlessly, stealthily like a thief. Sorey felt for his cellphone and flicked on the flashlight only to realize that it was dead; but he didn't and couldn't let it distract him.

Looking around, he realized that the graveled side street that he stumbled into was empty, abandoned—a narrow, blind path that did not allow cars to pass. As he neared a corner, he fell into the stuttering shadows of a flickering, blinking light. It seemed to be coming from an overhanging, a decrepit sign dangling loosely from a rusty marquee. Light sparked and sputtered from it with an acute, sizzling sound as if the circuitry itself was coughing off what little power remained in the cables that hung beneath it like twisted vines. As he tried to adjust his vision by squinting and rubbing his eyes, he spotted a patch of rhododendrons and white angels clustered just a few feet away to his right, their fleshy leaves faintly misted as moonbeams fell upon them, casting an effervescent shimmer that, somehow, drew his attention to it.

It only took a second for him to register Mikleo’s image as the lingering scent reached him.

Stretching to his full height as his chest continued to heave in protest—he realized just then that he had been running up the sloping incline of the path—he tried to concentrate on the distance ahead of him for any clues regarding Mikleo’s location. Everywhere around him, quaint shadows quivered with a malaise as if to suggest that something more palpable than evil lingered there, something filthy and lascivious—something more deserving of fear and hate than just a sinister urban legend or a forgotten curse.

 _Dammit!_ He knew this isn't the time to be thinking about horrors he'd only seen in the movies. Mikleo could have been dragged into whatever dingy, lecherous corner, and god knows what kinds of things—what that perverted leech must be doing to him right this minute...

He tried to blink away the panic and desperation he felt as the darkness stretched before him like an unwelcome invitation, but it was no use. His mind kept drifting back to that scene... not that it was even worth remembering. All he knew was how paralyzed he felt when that guy touched Mikleo like that. Of course Mikleo must have been more shocked than he was to react swiftly to the guy's physical advances. Not much taller than Sorey himself, the guy seemed about four to five years their senior and had that sophisticated appeal to him that seemed to blend with the plush, modern elegance of the café, making him quite its ideal part-time worker.

What his mind regarded with absolute disgust were the guy’s intimations and gestures. To be honest, those were more than enough to make Sorey want to bleed or break some part of him... an arm, a rib, one of his shoulders maybe, he didn't care which. The deep, blue gaze that bastard directed at Mikleo was disgustingly redolent with craving, with an insatiable appetite no different from the depraved hunger of a wolf that couldn't wait to feed.

Sorey almost stumbled as a distended protrusion grazed his foot, forcing him to grasp a rusty ledge that seemed to mark a narrow entrance to an abandoned apartment parking lot. The dank, musty air breezily slipping through the yawning cracks and crevices of the walls adjacent to it was rancid and moldy, but something else was stopping his breath. He couldn’t understand the feeling just yet, but the thought of Mikleo being touched that way kept playing itself over and over in his mind. The mere idea of his body pressed against someone else’s intimately, of those lavender eyes widening, filled with broken fear and raging anguish and hurt was too unbearable that a maddening urge to smash something, anything was blurring his vision, even when he struggled for focus, for self-control...

The hurt was too much, like a sliver of ice ripping through him, gripping his chest with a hundred stabbing pains that made his breathing ragged, like he was running out of air. 

Then again, imagining that look in Mikleo’s eyes, the look of helpless abandon and fear, brought him back to something more deeply familiar, something he wouldn't want to remember if he could help it. To say the least, he had been observing Mikleo since the silver-haired prodigy transferred to Zestiria two years ago, thanks to a sponsorship offered by Edna's mom--which no doubt, was Edna's idea since she must have known Mikleo around that time, with Mrs. Rulay and Mrs. Lefay being old acquaintances themselves... 

From the first day Mikleo appeared in school, of course, Sorey had been thrilled, excited even when Mikleo treated him like any other student, any other stranger he'd pass by the hallways and corridors, the cafeteria, or the library (gods, how many times had he gone there just to catch a glimpse of Mikleo's shadow as he weaved in and out of those rows upon rows of bookshelves). For his part, Sorey had been content to just watch... and smile from a distance. And he had always made sure to be cautious, to keep his awareness to himself and not to overstep his boundaries. 

But after two years of staying that way, of living with that sort of arrangement that only he was aware of (which was exactly the root of the problem) he decided that there's no way he'd put up with the indifference any longer. It wasn't as if he had finally succumbed to desperation (although admitting that wasn't easy either). But after those explicit detours to get the silver-haired, lavender-eyed transfer student to notice him didn't work, he was resolved to try other means, hopefully, to re-establish a long, lost, forgotten friendship, or maybe something deeper than that, if possible.

True, in more ways than one his and Mikleo’s orbits seemed too far apart to ever cross or meet halfway. On the one hand, he has his own chaotic, glitzy, glamorous universe filled with people brimming with self-importance, inundated by sports and celebrity intrigues. On the other hand there’s Mikleo’s peaceful, unhampered existence brightened up by the warmth of a genuine home, a motherly presence, and the _unseen but definitely felt_ loyalty of a friend in Edna. And of course, there’s Mikleo’s own towering academic achievements, his remarkable passion for things that really matter. 

But those differences didn't bother Sorey in the least... He knew he could make their worlds meet if he tried, if he made compromises... There are ways to bridge those gaps.  

The most difficult of all, definitely more challenging than all those differences that socially and psychologically set them apart, was living with the  _indifference_ every single day, the loneliness that Mikleo was making him feel with every careless look that lacked the recognition he'd been waiting for, had been quietly hoping would return on its own. He wanted more than ever to let Mikleo know at least that he, Sorey, existed, that he had, in fact, been waiting for him to remember that fateful day some eight years ago when they first met…

When Sorey first held his hand and promised not to let go ever again...

Though it was eight years ago, making him no more than eight years old at that time, all those memories were as clear to him as if they happened just yesterday. Maybe because what brought them together was not even something sweet to remember. It was traumatic. In fact, it involved a narrow escape from knaves whose identities have been held from him until now but who, if practical logic were to be the only lead, must somehow be connected to kidnapping for ransom. His family’s affluence, after all, was never a secret to the rest of the world; the fact that he is a Sheppard, heir to a powerful legacy, makes him a viable target... an ideal hostage that meant easy money for those with the means and the criminal intent.   

As to how Mikleo got entangled with his unfortunate circumstance, well… it almost seemed surreal that they met in one of those extravagant, pre-Christmas evening balls regularly organized by the Sheppards. The invited comprised mostly of his grandfather's business associates, who, to say the least, were nothing more than faceless, nameless strangers to him at that time—except, of course, for his usual childhood friends Rose, Alisha, and Sergei who had little choice but to come with their parents on such occasions and in stiff formal attire too (which was one of those things that Sorey didn't like about it). And of course, being of the same age, all of them found the routine platitudes and superficial chit-chat horridly boring. Like him, they did nothing but fidget from underneath the lace and frills and stiff collared suits they were forced to wear to make them look decent and presentable, like gourmet (he would have added). 

So when he found a one-in-a-million chance to skip the waltz (which only Alisha seemed to enjoy dancing with him anyway), he thought of sneaking out of the mansion even when it meant leaving Rose, Alisha, and Sergei to endure the rest of the evening (and those boring ballroom  dances) the best way they could.

The moment he found himself a sanctuary in the soft, soothing shadows by the fountain in the courtyard where the moon-lit sky was just relaxing to watch, he was finally able to heave a sigh of relief. Of course it was rude of him to feel like a chained prisoner, to feel that his world offered nothing but a view from a crystal cage; it was rude to compare his castle with a golden trap, his lot with that of a pet bird that sings out of habit rather than feeling. But such thoughts didn't matter at the moment. He was simply happy to be able to breathe freely, to be able to sit the way he liked without worrying about getting runs on his stockings or dirt on his stupidly tight petticoat. It was also nice to watch and feel the frost on his breath become thick like smoke...

From the way the mist had begun to hang around him, becoming heavier and wetter on his cheeks, he knew it was beginning to get colder.

All he needed to do was wait just a little bit longer... wait for the first snowflakes to fall.

But a movement in the shadows caught his attention—from someone who seemed to have found the same hideout sooner than he did. And when he swayed his shoulders just far enough to look behind him and the statue of a  _Venus de Milo_ rising out of the middle of the fountain next to him, his gaze was met by a pair of eyes so breathtakingly beautiful that he felt, for the first time, a heavy, uncomfortable pounding in his chest. On the other side of that finely-sculptured replica sat a child a little smaller than him—a boy or a girl, he couldn’t tell which at first—with a fine, delicate face framed by the white furry border of a hooded, aquamarine blue jacket. It looked really cute on him or her—even though, or maybe because, it was a little too big around the shoulders, fastened by a tight belt that let it bloom like a girl’s skirt just below the knees. What struck him was the way moonbeams caught the smooth, sheen strands of silvery hair peeking beneath the hood, giving it an unearthly but sublime, bluish, effervescent shimmer; and when he finally got over his nervousness—only most of it—and decided to approach what seemed at first to be a dream-like, angelic apparition, he caught sight of the palest pink-white cheeks and the small curve of a mouth peeking through the hood shyly… caught the wide-eyed look of the most beautiful set of lavender eyes he had ever seen in his life gazing up at him in surprise.

Even now the memory of it stuck in his mind stubbornly, making him blush. He was, in fact, so taken by Mikleo's beauty during that fateful moment that he, regrettably, did something embarrassing—something atrociously obscene.

He touched him _there_.

Recalling those details, he couldn’t help but feel an even deeper blush at the memory of being slapped hard on the left cheek—a cold, hard slap that nearly took his head off—because after Mikleo obstinately insisted that he was a boy, he thought that the only way he could prove himself wrong was to touch the space between Mikleo’s legs to be sure. It was just a bluff of course, something he didn't think he'd be able to do if Mikleo dodged his hand, which he certainly would have if he were a girl--that was his twisted presumption at least.

But as Mikleo didn't, the inevitable happened. Mikleo was smaller than him, thin and frail and fragile-looking, so when he got a rock-hard slap for being so forward and daring, there was nothing else he could do but to stare dumbstruck at Mikleo. Immediately his hand reached up to rub his sore cheek where the unbelievably soft fingers must have left a red, scathing mark the shape and size of a tiny girl’s hand.

To be honest, if Mikleo had told him instead that he were an angel, he would have been more eager to believe without question.

Just the same Mikleo apologized for his harsh retaliation. For his part, he could only grin back ludicrously while holding his sore cheek and telling Mikleo he deserved something worse than a slap. At that moment of embarrassment, Mikleo shook his head and reached out hesitantly to touch his reddened skin tentatively, telling him how sorry he was all the while. When he said it was fine, his name was Sorey Sheppard, and who could he be anyway, it was the first time he had seen him in their parties, Mikleo’s color drained; he froze wide-eyed and shocked as if he had just been told that he had been speaking with a ghost. But as that kind of reaction was too novel for him to accept without question, he couldn’t help _over_ reacting by stepping forward and grabbing Mikleo by the wrist. It was hard to explain until now, that overwhelming surge of disappointment he felt when Mikleo looked like he wanted to run away... And at that moment, all he wanted was to take away that fear, to reassure Mikleo that he wanted nothing more than to know him better, maybe to be his new friend if he'd let him get close enough...

But his presumptions didn't work as usual. If anything, it only made Mikleo panic even more, made him want to run farther away. After breaking free from his grasp, he turned and fled, except that he never really got very far. Mikleo froze as a tall figure wrapped in shadows blocked his path, extending a black, gloved hand toward him. Sorey was adamant he heard Mikleo cry as the stranger edged closer and, right under the dim lights, tried to keep Mikleo from getting away by reaching out and grabbing him by the hood of his jacket.

With a violent instinct he couldn’t name, he jumped in between them and bit the man’s fingers savagely, not bothering to care if he could even make a lethal wound with a careless defense like that. When the man grabbed him instead, his immediate impulse was to scream “Run! Get the hell outta here!” But Mikleo—whose name was still unknown to him at that moment—was just as carelessly bold as he was. Mikleo quickly got behind the man and kicked him behind the knee, waiting for Sorey to leap back on his feet and escape.

The labyrinthian courtyard behind the Sheppard mansion became the scene of a chase soon after that. He remembered how he and Mikleo slipped into the shadows, praying the man would cease his dogged search before they could be found. But it was another fatal assumption on his part, one that didn't consider the obvious possibility that there'd be more predators waiting to spring their trap on them. Before he and Mikleo could scramble out of their hiding to call for help, they'd been dragged out like wild animals then shoved into a waiting car. They must have been made to sniff some sleep-inducing drug right after that for he didn't remember much of what happened while they were in the car. He could only vaguely recall crying out, biting savagely at the gloved hand smothering his face as he noticed how one of their captors was rough-handling Mikleo. But the details that came with his waking were nothing close to what he thought was waiting for them.

The man who shoved Mikleo into the car roughly before they passed out—he realized with a strange kind of fear that he was not in the same room as the two other men who were playing cards in the lighted corner a few feet from where he lay crouched on the floor. Their kidnappers must have thought that he would be asleep for a few more hours and left the rope around his hands loose. Either that or their kidnappers had tied Mikleo with him when they arrived but, for reasons only known to them, decided to set him loose. In fact the space next to him still felt a little warm, and there was the trailing coil of rope that they must have carelessly left in haste on the same spot where they had untied him. For the time being, though, all he could do was to pretend he was still asleep. It required some sort of strategic stealth to keep himself as soundlessly immobile as he could as he moved his eyes and strained his ears for any sound or movement that could give him clues as to what was going on around him, where Mikleo and that man must be…

But when he finally caught the first signs and clues he'd been waiting for, a numbing chill crawled down his spine as if in warning. There were muffled noises, whimpering pleas, sounds that he wasn't ready for... could hardly _ever_ be ready for. 

Through the window of a locked room with a door that was just three paces to the left of the table where the two men played cards, he could glimpse two shadows… a tall, lanky one hovering over a smaller, obviously tinier frame, whose arms were raised above his small head, his legs spread-eagled in front of the man.

He felt his breath catch in his throat as a pained realization came to him. _Is-is that him in there?_

The bastard must be doing something so horribly frightening as to make Mikleo beg him to stop… Although he had no clear idea what was going on at that time, he could see from the way the man positioned himself on top of Mikleo's sprawled, lithe body that he was doing more than just hurting Mikleo in a way a cruel man might hurt a child by beating him up. He felt his stomach churn with nervous panic as a strange instinct urged him to follow the man's movements closely--to see where his head was going as the rest of him snaked toward Mikleo so closely as to make their shadows merge in the middle. Then suddenly, Mikleo's form was enveloped completely in the filthy bastard's arms, which to his horror, was followed by the man's face moving down Mikleo's shoulders, then dipping much, much lower than that…

Mikleo’s muffled cries stabbed at him as the two other men at the corner coughed a harsh, teasing, smug remark.

“Hey, make sure the little bitch doesn’t bite. Your whoring fun is not part of the plan so finish it quick, you dog!”

The other man snickered but didn’t say anything, flashing an eery grin at the shadows showing through the dimly lighted window as cigar smoke wafted from his mouth and circled lazily around the flickering lights.

Right after that lewd teasing, he noticed some commotion in the locked room—sounds of creaking and kicking that got the two men snickering and laughing with mockish, knowing stares at each other. Obviously the kidnapper who was with Mikleo was doing something to make him panic so violently. But the devil managed to catch Mikleo by the waist anyway, managed to hold him down from the back and pin his chest and shoulders onto the table where Mikleo had obviously been laid. He couldn’t avert his eyes as the monster's shadow visibly pulled Mikleo toward him, grabbing him by the thighs and forcing him on his knees before spreading his legs apart. At first the awkward position forced upon Mikleo didn’t make sense to him—until one of the men looked up and grated harshly.

“If you gonna rape ‘im sock his mouth all right? We don’t wanna hear any of your filthy screaming here that might wake up the other pup!”

“Yeah, just get your lousy dick in and get it over and done with! Sheesh, why did we have to drag such a whore up here with us, that friggin’ lousy dickhead’s gonna make a mess right here!”

“Never mind, as long as the real gold mine’s safe and sound who cares about that pretty face? The kid ain’t gonna last anyway, knowing how rough that fuckin’ bastard is… just imagining him slamming his dick hard and fast—shit, I feel like touching myself right now… just not my type to be fuckin’ a pup like that.”

“Well if he starts cryin’ I’m gonna touch myself too—maybe even try it if the kid’s not too beat up yet…”

At that precise moment when he heard those frightening words... those unbelievably filthy words that told him _exactly_ what was going on, he felt his pulse race, then his heart; then before he knew what he was doing he was up on his two legs, had grabbed a crowbar carelessly left leaning upright on the wall just below the other window near his right side, and had lunged at the two men in three quick strides, aiming for the window right between their aghast, ashen faces.

He swung the crowbar high over his head and brought down the forked edge savagely, catching the two men unawares though they weren’t even his target. They scampered to their feet, leaving their cards aflutter in a spiraling mess. But their reaction was just a split second too late. As they ducked their heads in utter, listless shock, glistening shards flew past them in a deadly arc, like a scythe of glass illuminated by a cold, murderous light.

One man staggered half-blindedly in shock, his eye replaced by a bubble of blood as a flying sliver embedded itself like a dagger, piercing the delicate orb of flesh within.

The rest of the shattered glass fell like scattered gems, almost beautiful in the shimmering light of the hanging gas lamp overhead. _That_ gave Sorey an idea. He swung again and the gas lamp shattered next, causing the liquid to trickle down and spark into life.

The two men stared in horror as the rain of deadly sparks quickly erupted into angry flames; as if following his mad frenzy of disgust, the flames quickly incinerated cards, paper bills, even the sheaf of documents beneath two cellphones that one of their captors tried to save in vain.

The half-blind man lunged stupidly almost aimlessly at him, obviously muddled by the blood trickling down his useless eye. As the acrid smell of fumes circling in smoky ringlets added to the sordid confusion about them, Sorey went and smashed the other window behind him. Whether he hoped the noise would force the other man to come out of his den and release Mikleo or the opening would let some of the lethal fumes to escape before they smothered all of them to death was not clear to him at that moment. But when the door finally let the devil out—the filthy, perverted leech stumbled out of the way of the scorching haze like a panicked snake with his hands still on the front of his trousers as he tried to get the zip up—Sorey felt his breathing stop. The sight of the man’s filthy, luridly disheveled appearance was more than enough to let him imagine what perverted horrors he must have inflicted on Mikleo to satisfy his insatiable lust, his depraved appetite.

Until now, he remembers those images vividly, remembers every sordid detail.  He never really got past those sickening thoughts; they will continue to simmer in his mind and haunt his image of Mikleo every time something comes up to remind him of those regrettable hurts that Mikleo didn't have to suffer that way, or _any_ other way. Thinking about it now is making his chest hurt just as much as it did that time. Even back then, he remembers going livid like a crazed lunatic. Without thinking how far his rage and disgust might take him, he went for the bastard’s knee, making a wide swing with the crowbar before smashing it onto bone and muscle, causing the man’s face to contort in massive pain as his knees buckled.

Panting, he watched him fall to the floor half-naked as the perverted leech didn’t have time to pull up his trousers soon enough to avoid the blow. Then from the corner of his eye, he saw something glint in the fire. He froze as one of their kidnappers aimed a gun at him. But the shot hit the ceiling as Mikleo jumped from the shattered window to the table and onto the bastard's back, forcing his gun to lose its aim as his hand flew up, then down, loudly knocking Mikleo off him, who then crashed to the floor where Sorey saw him lie still in an unconscious heap. Even though it made him sick with worry, made him want to dash to Mikleo's side to help him, there was no time for it; the guy with the lost eye tried to reach for the weapon that skidded between his legs, and Sorey was just barely quick enough to kick it into the spreading fire even as he lunged at the man, crowbar still tightly clenched in his right hand.

The scumbag darted out of his way missing his aim by a mere hair’s breadth. But it didn’t take long for the bastard to realize it was a useless fight; the other lowlife had already scampered out of the cabin and into the falling snow screaming, writhing in pain, his back caught in flames.

Teeth clenched, Sorey felt his gaze shift involuntarily to the only one left, still crouched on the floor with a broken, blackened knee. It was clear that the filthy lowlife knew how everything depended on him right there and then--knew from the way Sorey stared daggers at him that he could easily split his skull open with the deadly wedge or beat him to a corner where the flames might swallow him whole. Relishing _that_ idea (Sorey would admit that much now), he couldn't help but snigger at the bastard with unflinching disgust. Sorey would only be too happy if the leech were to take up the challenge, rise to the occasion and meet his crowbar head-on so he could give him the punishment he deserved... The lowlife even tried to stand, but when he finally managed to drag one knee up, he turned his back like a pathetic coward and limped out of the cabin wordlessly.

The last thing Sorey would remember, perhaps to his dying day, was the incredulous look of horror on the bastard's face before he disappeared from his sight forever. It seemed as if the knave had seen something more horrible than himself, an unspeakable monster beyond reckoning. It seemed as if it was too farfetched to contemplate the damage as that inflicted by the hands of an eight-year-old... a wimpy-looking, filthy-rich kid whose vindictive hate had virtually metamorphosed into something earth-shakingly terrifying, a nine-headed demon-child resurrected from the darkest pits of hell.

But Sorey couldn’t care less about what _real_ demons might have thought of his actions. As soon as the last of their kidnappers had disappeared, he tossed the crowbar aside and ran up to Mikleo, rousing him with an impatient, panicked pull on the shoulder. Thankfully Mikleo sat up quickly with a start. Wide-eyed and confused, the pale amethyst eyes stared straight into his emerald ones with a mixture of amazement, fear, and surprise.

“We need to get out of here now!”

Mikleo nodded. He could probably sense the suffocating, smothering flames quickly cloaking everything in smoke, making both of them cover their faces to keep the deadly fumes from making them pass out.

Once they were outside, he tugged Mikleo by the wrist and pulled him to a run even though he could sense Mikleo's weight  being dragged in his left foot. But there was no time to estimate injuries. He wanted nothing more than to take him as far away from that hellish place as he could... far, far away from any danger, any man or beast that might hurt him that way ever again.   

It was then that he felt his voice coming out of his throat in a hoarse whisper.

“I—I’m sorry… I know it’s all my fault…”

There was silence. Then the boy beside him whispered back.

“Mikleo.”

He remembers not being sure that he heard Mikleo properly as his thoughts struggled bleakly through the suffocating darkness and the overwhelming haze of smoke. He wasn’t good at directions yet and broke his watch compass on top of that, but he thought that they could use the smoke from the burning lodge to hide their escape route should their kidnappers decide to pursue and retaliate. Then again, if they intended to be rescued, the most practical strategy was to stay close to the cabin’s charred remains, which should be the most likely place to be investigated or searched.

“Did you even hear what I just said?”

He remembers blinking back at Mikleo curiously, his legs not wanting to slow down even in the middle of his confusion. “Huh?”

A slow pink blush crept up Mikleo's cheeks as soft, feathery flakes of snow descended all around them in a shy, spiral dance. Sorey had never, until that moment, thought how beautiful and enchanting snow was, resting on those pale lips and creamy white skin, complementing the silvery shimmer of hair framing the boy’s heart-shaped face.

“My name. It’s Mikleo. And thank you... for everything.”

Sorey remembers stumbling in the dark, losing his balance for just about three seconds. But he didn’t let it loosen his grip on Mikleo’s wrist. No chance he would. 

“No, it’s all my fault this happened—”

“Shut up, Sorey.”

Hearing his name from the boy’s lips made him almost stumble a second time, but he kept his footing.

Then Mikleo averted his gaze. “What I mean is, don’t apologize for those lowlifes. The men did it. The fire did it. It’s all _their_ fault.”

Sorey couldn't help but feel a gentle kind of warmth tingle in his chest and down his spine despite the chilly wind. “Huh? But if we didn’t get caught…”

Mikleo pulled his hand to a stop. Sorey remembers giving him a panicked, questioning look in return.

“You didn’t—never wanted for us to get caught. If I were Sorey Sheppard, would you blame everything on me?”

Of course there was no getting around that simple argument. All he could do was shake his head with a doofus grin and smile without looking _too_ guilty. “Never. Can’t do that can I?”

Mikleo nodded and smiled back. The sight of Mikleo's smudged face and teary eyes at that time tore at him even now, making his chest heave with a shock of pain, pity, and remorse. Sorey remembers answering that nod with a muffled whisper that simply confirmed what he already said. “No, I don’t think you will either. You're that kind of person....”

Mikleo shook his head this time. "No, you're _that_ kind of person. You'd rather do what's right, even if it's troublesome."

"Huh?"

Mikleo smiled. Sorey had to ask why.

"You're kind, Sorey. Your eyes say so."

Sorey felt something welling in his chest back then. He realized, for the first time, that there was sincerity and understanding right there, gazing back at him with an open, honest kind of concern, a hopeful warmth that couldn't be dampened by whatever shocking ordeal they had just managed to get away from. To think that the greater trauma was Mikleo's to endure—something Sorey couldn’t imagine or even dare to think about even now without feeling a twisting, stabbing pain in his chest.

But if meeting Mikleo meant going through all that hell... Sorey didn't even want to think about it. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do to hide what he truly felt, the guilt, the self-deprecating blame because he knew deep down the quiet, selfish pain was there, the feeling of having found something so precious no danger could discourage even against better wisdom.  

Despite everything that happened, he felt oddly... happy. Happy to stumble into Mikleo somehow--of course, certainly happier in much, _much_ better circumstances--but undeniably happy just the same. 

“You’re too kind, Mikleo…”

Mikleo’s small mouth curved into a hesitant smile. “Say that to yourself.”

But nothing was over until it was over. He remembers how after about an hour of running and dodging trees and vines and thorny shrubbery that blocked any clear path to a clearing from which they might glimpse a road or highway that might enable them to get help, they both stumbled into another shelter. It was a ramshackle cabin abandoned under a tangled mass of creepers and vines that almost hid it completely from view. He remembered creeping into the house from a loose plank that barely let his and Mikleo’s bodies slip through, remembered how in the darkness they groped for each other’s hands, scared and uncertain as to how the cold, dingy shelter could hide them and how long. The wind and snow had already begun to form an uneven frost on the broken windows and howl its cold, gusty temper that made them shiver. Then Mikleo let go of him, running to a corner where the light of the moon filtered through a dull, glass pane marred by spidery cracks that seemed to be barely holding up against the wind. Even so it was the only source of light they had, barely enough to vanquish the creeping shadows and cold despair that welcomed their arrival.

Sorey had a few seconds to realize how much afraid Mikleo was of the dark, so afraid that he would fly to any flame even if it were barely a flicker. 

Then again, as if repeating a pattern or re-enacting that part he had played before, Mikleo didn’t get very far. Sorey screamed when he saw Mikleo disappear right in front of him, through a splintered floorboard that shattered with a loud crack under Mikleo’s weight.

He couldn’t forget as the moonlight illuminated Mikleo’s face when he looked down at him from where he kneeled, his heart in a frenzied panic as the sight of blood and tears leaking from Mikleo’s face met his downward gaze. Mikleo was also on his knees, sobbing, his strange panting seeming to suggest he had broken a limb or had hurt his rib from the fall.

Around Mikleo was the apparent mess of a decrepit basement that had the rancid, putrid smell of molding food and dead rats.  

But nothing mattered to him more than Mikleo... and maybe nothing ever did from then on. Aiming as best as he could, he jumped into the gaping abyss and crashed onto a spot next to him. He remembered the silver-haired boy looking up at him through tears, remembered him frowning and clenching his fist at Sorey. Why did he do it, it was crazy stupid, Mikleo kept saying over and over. Going over those memories now, Sorey knew he has never been one to think before he acts. Call it audacity or plain stupidity he wouldn't care. All he knew right there and then was those lavender eyes would never be forgiven if they cried too much in a place where no one deserved to be alone. 

He was only eight years old then and, as one might expect, the experience should have been set aside, rudely forgotten. But even without any effort at all, those memories kept coming back to him even in moments in which he was completely preoccupied with things that had not the slightest allusion to that past. Somehow vague images would just flit into his attention, random sensations—the feathery brush of pale, slender fingers on his cheek, the soothing sound of words leaving those pale, pink lips, the clear pools of emotion that shimmered in a pair of lavender eyes that fondly gazed at him—every single one of these were indelibly stamped onto his memories, forcing him to acknowledge one incontrovertible fact…

That memories make the soul… that memories are not just vague pictures collected in some corner of the mind but, rather, comprise an entire range of feelings and perspectives that contain something deep that inheres, an essence which the heart recognizes by instinct like a heartbeat that involuntarily belongs to it, like a devout person’s faith in something mysterious and holy that goes beyond knowing or understanding, beyond reason or logic...

And that is why as stupidly crazy as it sounds, he would risk danger and whatever tragedy it might bring if only to make it up to Mikleo. Gramps was probably wondering what was going through his mind, what was eating him these past few months that got him sinking into failure which was against his better self. But he had to be convincing—and that meant having reason and purpose to justify his actions even if the real intentions and motives lay somewhere else.

He knew, of course, what a bad liar he was—and knowing fairly well how astute Zenrus Sheppard really is and has always been, he was certain it wouldn’t take long for his Gramps to unravel this convoluted stratagem of his. He knew making excuses to meet Mikleo this way, asking for his help even if that help was hardly necessary—which meant posing as a dumb student in desperate need of tutoring—would earn him a draconian punishment beyond his worst nightmares. But even so, he just couldn’t help himself…

Remembering is too short, forgetting is so long…

Even if Mikleo didn’t care to explain the meaning behind those words, he understood exactly what they meant: once forgotten something ceases to exist. And just like one’s frail, ephemeral mortal existence, memories die each day, moments wax and melt away into something vague and formless, like ripples slowly drifting farther and farther away until they even out as if they were never even there. Therefore, the only way to keep something precious from being carried away by the tides of Time into the realms of death and the forgotten is to remember… to paint the memory onto a permanent canvas that cannot be reached or corrupted by anything outside the mind…

Just like the way he remembers each tragedy of his childhood: his father’s disappearance, abandonment, or maybe neglect—he couldn’t tell which one was true by all accounts or if the difference would even matter if he tried to find out; his mom’s suicidal depression, her withering away into something as incoherent as the ironies and symbolisms of her poetry and fiction, of her tragic demise that had left Sorey with nothing but more ambiguities; and his grandfather’s seemingly obsessive passion with his kingdoms and conquests, making certain that Sorey’s future is as assured as the foundations of his empire, with nothing left to chance or the slightest possibility of failure.

And now Mikleo…

He needs to be honest. Memories may be the language of the soul but the heart always yearns for something real, something that lives and breathes, something... no... _someone_  you can touch and feel with all the emotions of your being and who can respond to those feelings just as much. 

The heart yearns for _someone_ who walks the same ground and breathes the same air, _someone_ whose smiles and tears, whose every inch of existence is within reach. That explains why in those years that he didn’t know anything about Mikleo’s whereabouts—what happened to him right after their rescue from that abandoned cabin eight years ago—he would pass the time imagining what life would be like if each and every little thing he did had a specific eventuality or impact on Mikleo’s life...

Like what if something bad could happen to Mikleo every time he failed to kick a ball into a winning goal or failed an exam? To fill the ghostly, uneventful hours of the day he came up with a _law_ , some kind of an equation in his mind in which _every cause_ was his and _every effect_ was Mikleo’s.

It may be absolutely absurd but it was the guiding philosophy that inspired him to make every effort count, to make every single day worth every single objective, every single accomplishment and feat.

Until one day Zestiria's soccer team was invited to have an exhibition game with another team in a suburban community school that had been a beneficiary of the Sheppards'--or rather his grandfather's--scholastic programs. It was there that, after six years of eternity (or so apparently it seemed to him) he had come face to face with Mikleo again though it felt like the first time happening all over again because both of them had changed so much...

Not that it was a bad thing. Just as he had expected—no, more than he had expected—Mikleo stood out, more beautiful than he had ever imagined him to be in his stupid boyish daydreams. It was hardly surprising of course, given the fact that the same unique kind of attractiveness was exactly what had drawn his eyes to Mikleo in the first place. But the moment Mikleo's presence became more apparently real and tangible, the moment Mikleo stepped into his life again and became part of his everyday existence in school, he realized that something in him, not just about Mikleo, has changed as well. Embarrassing as it were to admit, he would catch himself having daydreams that seemed more physically grounded, like imagining what Mikleo would be doing with him when they're together... or to be more honest, what Mikleo would be doing _to_ him with a little bit of encouragement. Sometimes he would even wake up in the middle of the night feeling so drained and empty, feeling some kind of need he couldn't name that was festering inside of him, a want that wants to be filled...

And he could tell that it was more than just the effects of hitting puberty. Because if he wanted nothing more than sexual gratification, there were easier ways of getting that... opportunities just around the corner, dates he could so easily get and take advantage of...

He'd like to think that his disturbing fantasies of Mikleo are nothing close to perversion though—at least he was committed to _not_ letting his infatuation become a meaningless, stimulating pastime, an excuse for satisfying _that_ raging _manly_ part of him that more than a few times demanded shameless attention and fulfillment.

So why is he so stuck with Mikleo? It doesn't seem that _that_ particular question will have any answers.

Sorey winced. _Why do I have to have an answer to that anyway?_ But just as he was about ready to make a detour from that line of thinking, a piercing clangor assaulted his senses. The heavy hammering was relentless: of solid iron pounding against steel, of blades and spears grating, screeching like banshee as they clash in frenzied fury.

And from some far-off distance it seems, a high-pitched wail of sound and fury penetrated the war-like din. The monstrous howl sounded like the bewildered yet desperate hunger of some wild, untamed beast ready to leap into the brute, rancid air, ready to slaughter and be slaughtered in the rippling cacophony of madness and hate... 

Sorey squeezed his eyes shut, tried to drown the sound piercing his senses with his own heartbeat. _Dammit, I-I don't... need this right now..._ He felt an unearthly void seep into him, coil its slithery embrace around him until he was choking and breathless. But even this malevolent presence wasn't powerful enough to drive away the piercing echoes slicing through his hearing, cracking his skull and prying his mind open to bare each thought, each memory as if in doing so it was hoping to find something hidden, something secret and forbidden that was not meant to be found...

The pain was enervating to the point of driving him to his knees.

But something broke through... a balm of stillness that smothered the confusion like a temporary peace. Sorey shook his head as if the gesture could keep the madness from coming back, could stretch the silence long enough to help him regain his composure. 

Like water the soundless stillness flowed with a quiet energy that calmed his mind, like a river weaving through an orgy of fire.

 

_Listen Sorey... you have to find him now before everything is set loose._

 

At first, the intrusive voice made him panic. But unlike those discordant echoes that stabbed his mind and hearing, this one penetrated his soul swiftly and painlessly, in a deep, crystal clear way that softly yet insistently demanded to be heard. It filled him with a presence that seems to want to coax his mind away from the painful, harrowing din... to stay in his mind like a cloak of awareness that was vaguely protective but just as resolved.

 

_Penetrate the barrier of this malevolent will… I know you can do this…_

_Let me be your guide. I won’t let the darkness take you or hurt you._

_But you have to hear me out. It's the only way..._

Sorey couldn't help but shiver at its determination. The possibility that he was hearing somebody else's thoughts, that he was becoming a stranger to himself must mean he was succumbing to madness. And something like _that_ happening at a crisis point is unacceptable.

_Dammit, how, and who are you? How can I--_

 

_Open your mind, Sorey. Follow the path where the darkness ceases…_

_There you will find the reason… the calling that summoned you back here._

 

Sorey closed his eyes—he didn’t know why or how his instincts knew the way to follow what the voice commanded him to do, what the voice instructed his muddled consciousness to do.

 

_Calm the sea of fire, and the darkness will break, and the light_

_The pure white light will lead you to your own senses…_

_And your quiet power will sense what it lives for…_

 

Sorey somehow understood, his heart racing. _What my power lives for… is him isn’t it?_

The voice was silent, then a flicker of thought raced through him.

 

_For my power and yours are one and the same…_

_As our hearts and wills abide only in one soul._

_Now, quickly, follow my lead down the path of ice…_

 

Sorey felt a listless wind carry his senses far into the distant reaches of an alien place, a dark, purple moor overlooking a plain of silver ice, swept clean by tides of dust and a biting chill that whipped his eyes and cheeks.

Sorey knew he was seeing himself in another place inside his mind but outside his body.

 

_Under the moon, the light of those pale, distant stars, my eyes watch over you and your world._

_This precipice is my prison… but there is a way to set me free…_

 

 _How?_   Sorey found himself asking before he could even ascertain the true identity of the voice.

 

_Think of what matters most. For nothing is stronger than the desires of the heart…_

_Only the heart that craves could span the widest gorge and cross the deepest seas._

 

Sorey flung his eyes to the wide, darkening skies. He knew in his heart that the answer had always been there long before it was asked.

What did he desire the most? What did his heart crave? Friendship, fame…

None of that. From the moment their eyes met he knew what he wanted. Or who.

Silver ice… just like his hair. Purple moor… just like his eyes. Even this world spoke of that desire that cannot be denied. But what of this world, why is he seeing this right now? Sorey was certain that the vision laid out before him was no sliver of a dream, no delusion or nightmare; after all, with the nervous, furious panic beating in his chest he could not afford to be less than awake and alert. But this voice… it seems to reverberate from the hollow of a deep chasm somewhere on the precipice of his own consciousness. And there was something else in that abiding, pervasive darkness—something so palpable he could almost feel it.

There was solitude.

There was sorrow. Sorey felt it… there was more…

An aching, raging, wave of grief frozen and locked in the corners of a heart and mind that endures…

Sorey understood now. This world was a sanctuary to that voice… an emptiness surrounded by invisible walls…

A prison and a grave of forgotten dreams…

Then suddenly an image and a familiar scent broke into his thoughts, and those thoughts and feelings made his heart race.

_Mikleo…???_

The voice seemed to have heard him.

 

_His name, which your heart speaks… therein lies an oath I cannot break…_

 

Sorey frowned. _What oath? You mean a promise?_

 

_I cannot speak of it. But your key to my power shall be that name._

_It is the Will and the Word that can bind your soul with mine…_

 

A flicker of understanding came to Sorey. He cast his eyes below the precipice, not bothering to cover his ears as the whipping wind lashed and screamed with the grating sound of iron chains and the heavy pounding of steel against steel.

Sorey cringed involuntarily. _Look, whoever you are, how can you help me? I need to find Mikleo now but I don’t think he’s anywhere here in this damned wasteland… Besides, what does Mikleo have anything to do with you—or your soul and mine?_

A distant screech sounded from afar, cleaving the icy winds with the power of invisible talons. Sorey braced himself as he felt the same heavy, crushing weight on his chest return, trying more desperately this time to suffocate him.

 

_Be brave and patient. The truth is something you will discover for yourself._

_But for now, I need your trust more than anything._

_For the True Lord and Origin of the Malevolence is stronger here. It binds the spirit and energy of this world…_

_It rules every nook and corner, both visible and unseen._

_And it follows your every journey, traces the path of every heartbeat…_

_It knows all your secrets, Sorey… all the destinies of your being._

_Even now it tries to reach the shores of your memories…_

_It seeks the Heart within the Vessel that seals its power._

_It will do everything to find the Vessel that protects your world..._

 

Sorey’s breathing hitched. He knew what that meant—somehow his heart and mind knew what it was all about.

_So if I release you, if I try to find an opening for you out of this empty hell…_

 

A hollow echo seems to reverberate from the intermittent silences of the lonely peak to give him a reply.

 

_The shadows of the Malevolence will follow you to your world._

_And it will take from you everything you value… everything dear and precious… because it knows that you will protect it with all your power and resolve. And your desire to protect shall make you obedient to its will._

_It wants to be invincible… through you and in him…_

 

Sorey felt an overwhelming emptiness overtake him—like an insurmountable wave of sadness about to break a dam.

 

_This wasteland is a part of me... as my soul is the prison that seals the Malevolence here... to keep it from escaping to your world..._

_And this place that you returned to... this is my memory..._

_It is something neither of us is ready to lose..._

_Because it is part of our beginnings... what we love, what we hold dear..._

_What I would die to protect... because of him..._

 

Sorey felt a terrible pain stab him, like a blade sheathed in flames had been twisted through his heart, trying to cleave him open.

 

_What is right is right. But what we truly desire makes us who we are._

_It endures… like our souls…_

_That is why, the unbreakable bonds we keep are our strength and our weakness._

_We must protect the same thing that makes us suffer._

_Be strong enough to endure the most painful of deaths._

 

Sorey blinked against the storming wind stirring a maelstrom of dust and ice into a cataclysmic tornado rising up in the distance. The magnitude of the calamity was enough to eclipse the faint, scattered light in the sky, enough to make his knees go weak with the impending horror the sea of raging wind roiled up.

 

_Stand firm. Let not the shadows consume us both._

_Believe me when I say this: no light is so pure that it casts no shadow._

_So even the darkest of shadows bends to the light of a flickering flame._

_Now, lend me your power. Use my eyes…_

_Follow my mind through the path of broken ice and raging fire…_

_Through the winding cracks of this scarred, forsaken realm._

_Let my heart guide you and lead you_

_Through the river of blood that sings with the melody of water_

_To the shrine where your own heart belongs._

_There you will find the Gate that frees both good and evil…_

_The only power that can save the one that matters to us both_

_Even if it brings doom to everything else…_

 

When Sorey opened his eyes, he was standing by a crystal spring. From a distance he could see a waterfall cascading into a silvery pool, framed by an overhanging of leafy branches and green twigs some of which had clusters of blooming white and lavender petals swaying at the gentle, wafting breeze.

He must be standing inside a cave, surrounded by a breath-taking mural—an expanse of smooth rock upon which he immediately discerned drawings of human figures, elaborately interspersed with geometrical shapes and asymmetrical fern and animal motifs. He looked around and there was silence—except for the sound of wind whistling through the cracks and water hitting the surface of the pool, there was a sublime, resonating quietude here.

Then Sorey felt something graze his skin. It was cool, whisper-like. But it sent shivers down his spine.

Something was materializing before him, like a vapor suspended in mid-air, solidifying, taking on a concrete shape and form right before his very eyes.

The haze slowly took on a bluish, aquamarine glow until Sorey could see a staff, about six feet high, with a flat, curved protrusion on top, standing still before him, supported by nothing but air and an invisible will it seems.

 

_Take it. Then touch the surface of the spring with it._

 

Sorey did as he was told. The wooden staff felt cold but familiar in his nervous grip.

 

_Look into the surface. Do you see anything?_

 

Sorey’s eyes lingered on the pool’s crystal, sapphirine surface. At first there was nothing but a gentle, circling ripple. Then in the center of it, the water gained a silvery smooth sheen, like the surface has become a solid sleet of ice.

Sorey made a sharp intake of breath.

 

_Your reflection is so crystal clear, isn’t it? As if you’re staring into a mirror._

 

Sorey nodded speechlessly.

 

_Good. Say his name this time. The Gate will show you what your heart wishes to see._

 

Sorey called out Mikleo’s name.

 

The surface seems to shiver, then the silvery surface reappeared, this time with an apparently different image.

Sorey approached the pool hesitantly. He could clearly see the image of a man—or what looked human except for its overdeveloped musculature and wild shock of mane that looked like a tail attached on the nape of its bald head. The figure’s back was bony and heaved heavily as if it was savagely feeding, but because the figure was looking the opposite way Sorey could barely make out what was really happening. Kneeling down the side of the spring to get a better view, Sorey saw how the figure—now apparently half man, half beast—sat on its haunches, hovering over something in front of it. Then the manly shape moved a little to the side and the rest of its torn, upper garment slid off its shoulders smoothly.

The man’s back bore a tattooed symbol Sorey had never seen before—a circle formed by two crescent moons facing each other, with an eagle’s claw at the center, in the space between their arches.

As the beastly man lurched toward its prey, it paused, seeming to relish the sight in front of it. Then opening its mouth and baring its fangs, the beast grasped its victim by the neck, shredding the clothing with its long, talon-like claws that hungrily bared the creamy white flesh underneath.

Sorey gasped.

Mikleo’s neck was held in a tight grip as his clothing fell to the sides of his waist, revealing a mask of purple bruises that seemed to have been punctured and were bleeding profusely. Sorey’s heart beat stopped as the beast hungrily, rabidly, licked those bruises, flicking its long, filthy tongue on the smooth skin where the blood dripped and coursed like a steady stream, staining its creamy pale texture, the rest of his clothes as well as the floor with trickles of vermillion.

Sorey went livid, his voice coming out as a growl. “H-how dare he? How do I get to him? Tell me!”

 

_The Gate only follows the Will and the Word. It will carry you to where you wish to go…_

_But to do that I have to make a path for you through the barrier of Malevolence that the Shadow Lords use to allow hellions to enter your world and feed the way they do… possessing human souls with desires that resemble their own…_

 

"What?" Sorey felt more baffled than ever.

 

_Listen... as soon as I forge a way through, you must act swiftly... Re-sealing the barrier is important... for the Shadow Lords can sense any tampering, and the last thing you or I want is an army on your heels..._

 

“You-you're not making any sense...”

 

_Whatever is here, the strange evil you feel... it's an enemy called the Malevolence, a shadow that follows both light and dark… Its lusts are endless, terrifying... and the only way it knows how to get what it wants is to seduce humans... to give them an insatiable hunger for those things that they secretly desire in their hearts. Feeding on human blood allows hellions to harvest the darkness in the heart of its prey... And that evil energy is what fuels the Malevolence, what makes it even stronger... strong enough to change the balance and disrupt the harmony of your world and mine..._

 

“Know what? I hardly care about that! Anything that even touches Mikleo is going to—”

 

_Stay your thoughts! The Insidion can sense your feelings..._

_The slightest hate or fear will lead its demon armies to us... the Gate, quickly!_

 

Sorey found himself sucked into the silvery pool, the water moving past him like a slippery cloak, letting him through swiftly without the slightest sensation of drowning.

In what seemed like a passing second, Sorey found himself standing in what appears to be an old, decrepit warehouse—conveyed by the wide open space and the clutter of torn boxes and rusty tools everywhere.

From where Sorey stood, the beast’s profile was very much discernible. He was on top of Mikleo now, his teeth sunk into Mikleo’s shoulder, making a fresh wound on the spotless surface of it, causing a new stream of blood to ooze thickly down the curve of Mikleo’s collar bone, down to his arm, smearing the creature's chin and jaw as he sucked ravenously.

Sorey was stricken with a stabbing horror as the creature's hand moved toward Mikleo’s crotch and finding an opening shamelessly slipped its claw-like fingers into it, moving with deliberate, agitated but fluid strokes. Mikleo’s face contorted in pain, his hand twitching helplessly as if to force itself to struggle or fight back. But the beast only found the effort invigorating. Moving his head down Mikleo’s chest, it seemed to find something more interesting to ravish. Sorey’s chest heaved with a million stabbing pains as its perverted greed found the pink buds exposed to it. Licking its lips, the beast took them in his mouth, sucking them shamelessly, grazing his teeth on them with savage, perverted relish.

Sorey screamed as similar images from that haunted past attacked his senses. He flew at the beast with a raging, desperate force, aiming at the bastard’s face.

But his kick connected to thin air. Even his shout seemed to fall on deaf ears as the monster continued his obscene ministrations, tugging loose the belt on Mikleo's waist that seemed to hamper its movements. Sorey's heart pounded deafeningly in his ears as the beast lifted Mikleo's thigh onto its right shoulder then dipped its head and hungry mouth to where its hand was just moments ago, without the tiniest flicker of awareness that Sorey was even there.

Then something sparked above him, and the air suddenly felt heavy with a cold, shuddering fury.

In the space in front of Sorey something like a current of energy quivered, forming an outline that looked like a wide door marked at the center with a bright, golden semicircle that bore the shape of a crescent at the bottom and the symbol of lightning above it, intersecting the circle.

But what was more surprising was the figure and the shape that flew past him, right through the halo of blinding brilliance and pure white light.

The figure strode into the darkness of the room without hesitation, tall and dignified from behind the pristine white cloak laden with an enigmatic pattern of emblematic circles around the hem and the center. Sorey could only stare in awe as the cape fluttered gracefully behind him, like the soft, feathered wings of an angel.

But he wasn’t prepared for what his eyes unmistakably recognized.

The tall figure was apparently young… with the most familiar shock of chestnut brown hair and smoldering green eyes that looked at nothing and saw nothing but Mikleo, with a deep, unwavering well of sadness and rage and fury that made his gaze almost frightening, chilling to behold. The soft, emerald depths brimming with emotions would have looked kinder, gentler, if there had been even the tiniest hint of a smile reflected in them. But right now the gaze was suffused with a different kind of energy vibrating at the extremes. It seemed like he could freeze and melt everything with the slightest intake of breath, with the tiniest flicker of an eyelid.

And that image whose heart seemed to throb in synchrony with Sorey's--with the same deep agony that surged with a massive wave of irrepressible and conflicting emotions--mirrored Sorey's face.

It was as if he was looking at himself from another time and place, as if his body had left his soul and was moving on its own will and accord.

The young man seemed oblivious of Sorey Sheppard’s presence, though, and did not even care to look over his shoulder even as Sorey tried to reach his side. Sorey watched as with a fluid, unhampered stride the caped figure approached the demonic beast on top of Mikleo—approached it and drew a sword from his side.

Sorey Sheppard watched in breathless awe as the sword rose into the air and cleaved it clean, slicing through the monster's protruding back.

The beast gave a desperate howl, screaming, writhing, its huge, muscular frame caught in a quivering circle of flames the color of a deep, sickening purple. But instead of feeling a sweltering, scorching heat, Sorey felt instead a cold, chilling, scathing heaviness seep into his skin, like he was standing on a numbing sea of ice that could freeze even the deepest recesses of anything it touched.

An ice that kills with unforgiving flames.

To Sorey’s surprise, when the flames gave out, the beast mutated into something completely different but familiar. The young man’s face, which gazed at Mikleo back at the café, now looked completely at peace, eyes closed in a deep sleep it seems. Even his body looked quietly settled, unharmed, without the faintest signs of its struggle, not even a single scar or bruise to give the slightest hint that a sword grazed it—no, was driven right through it—just moments ago.

Then without the slightest hesitation, the figure in blue and black, with his cape swaying gently behind him, bent down on Mikleo’s form, still unconscious on the ground.

At that moment Sorey Sheppard felt something in his chest stir... like a deep, bottomless grief was threatening to spill through the cracks of his soul… through the old wounds that seem to bleed in the deepest corners of his memories.

He felt more than saw the tall figure in front of him shiver with suppressed emotions then lift Mikleo into his arms. Sorey stepped forward, worried of having anyone touch Mikleo even in the slightest but there was something about that embrace that stopped him mid-way. The image of himself holding Mikleo so softly, gently as if Mikleo was the most fragile piece of treasure he has ever held in his life was so achingly familiar it made his knees suddenly weak he could barely move a step.

Without looking at Sorey Sheppard, without acknowledging his presence even in the slightest, the figure held Mikleo in his arms just like that, quietly...

Wordlessly…

But deny it as much as he would like, Sorey could feel his own thoughts, his own heart, racing with a thousand unspoken truths.

This man—this soul—whatever or whoever it is—loved Mikleo with more than everything the universe could hold with all the breaths of its stars, with all the light and shadow of its infinite gaze.

That Mikleo was loved this much, that he could arouse such overpowering emotions… This young man who held Mikleo to him must have endured all shades and forms of hell to be here right now…

Just to hold Mikleo like this.

And in that tiny fraction of a moment that he saw how the figure held Mikleo to his chest possessively as if this time there was no letting go, as if this time nothing in the world had the power to disturb their untouchable existence, Sorey could only drop his gaze and wrestle with his own feelings.

Try as he might, for the first time in his life, he couldn’t even find it in his heart to be jealous.

 

**o-----)o(-----o**

 

“Alisha, you haven’t been paying attention, have you?”

“W-what, oh, sorry Rose. For a second I thought—more like felt—Sorey nearby. Are you sure that wasn’t his car that we just passed?”

Rose shook her head with such exaggerated certainty strands of scarlet came flying and whipping across her pink cheeks. “Nah, stop associating everything with your fiancé, all right? Unless you’re obsessed with Sorey… which is sort of a turn off, I mean, a girl like you should know better than to let a man see how much he’s in control…”

“Stop it Rose, there’s nothing like that!”

“Fine, fine, I believe yah! But seriously, have you ever seen your more-fiction-than-fact boyfriend butt-naked ever?”

“Wh-what for? I mean, is that something—”

“Yeah it is! Don’t tell me it hardly ever crossed your mind?”

Alisha looked like she was about to burst into flames. “What did?”

“That your boyfriend’s hotter than hot and every girl who’s ever laid eyes on him—except me, of course—fantasizes him wearing nothing but his soul—or maybe a glove… sheesh, imagining that is almost hilarious!”

Alisha exploded. “Rose! Really, _I’m not going to ever talk to you again!_ ”

“C’mon stupid, you’re not gonna use that lame number on me again! But if you wanna drop the subject for our boring little girly topics, fine, go ahead. I’ll keep quiet as best as I can, munching away my fries and all, doing my damnest best to bore you to tears.”

Alisha grabbed her hand impulsively. “I didn’t mean it that way, you know I don’t…”

Rose pretended to be more hurt than she really was, but her look of concern couldn’t be denied from the way her frown deepened. “Yeah, I bet you’d cry a river if I die of grief or rejection or something. But honestly Alisha…”

Topaz-green eyes gazed back at her curiously. “All right, just tell me.”

Rose exhaled loudly. “Have you ever really thought of breaking up with Sorey?”

There was an awkward gap of about five seconds, then a deep, undeniable sigh that foreshadowed the unexpected inevitable.

“I love him.”

Rose’s elbow slipped off the table, causing her chin to land with a thud in front of Alisha and rattle their drinks.

“What the—do you really  _really, truly_  mean that Alish? I mean, _love_? Seriously? That cheesy, mushy, gooey, sticky, lovie-dovie word that should be damned to the deepest pits of—”

“Yes, Rose,” Alisha quietly whispered as if to herself, clear, green eyes misting with suppressed emotions. “I love Sorey. In all the cheesy, mushy, gooey, sticky sense of the word, Rose. In every damn way I could that’s wrong, in every way you know how…”

Rose was a little shocked at Alisha’s candid honesty. She has known both Alisha and Sorey since they were little—since they were no more than three years old. Back in those day-care, nursery, kindergarten-school days when they still had their nannies and caretakers in tow, she, Sorey, Alisha, and Sergei were almost inseparable diaper-buddies. No secret told could ever tear them apart from each other, and that included having public-secret crushes on other kids. She and Sergei knew even back then how obviously attached Alisha was to Sorey—how as constant as the moon she was when it came to choosing her orbit and sticking to it with all the stubborn madness of a crazy, in-love asteroid idiot. But right now, Rose wasn’t quite sure if she could bear to watch Alisha continue on the same collision course with a hurtling meteor the size of Sorey Sheppard’s naïve, careless, insensitive ego. If she knew any better, she would have suspected a long time ago that Sorey just wasn’t the type who’s interested in _any_ girl at all…

Except that the brainless idiot had dated girls before, had broken a gazillion hearts before, and probably had a wait-list of potential playmates that not even the longest-running anime in the history of the planet could statistically beat.

Alisha averted her gaze, watching the waning moon above them as their table on the café balcony allowed them to do a little bit of star- and moon-gazing.

“Say something Rose. I’m not gonna get mad, promise, all right?”

“Ehhh? You just broke my heart you dimwit. What do you expect?”

“Hey, stop that! You and Sergei used to make fun of me and Sorey back then. Even until now…”

“Have pity on the guy. That Sergei has a heart of stone that’s all gooey and soft on the inside. Sheesh, maybe he’s the one I should be dating next time instead of  _Her_ _Royal Excellency_ … _Heart-less_ , Princess Alisha!”

“I guess you and Sergei would be a good match. I mean, it’s okay for friends to be more than friends… because friendship is the best thing that keeps any relationship going…”

Rose huffed in her usual I-can’t-believe-I’m-actually-listening-to-this-crap sort of huff. But she tried to stay calm, at least for ten more seconds—which was like stretching her unusually short patience a mile. “Look, pardon my crappy, filthy, good-for-nothing mouth but I have to tell yah—you’re a really damn smart girl, Alish, no sarcasm there by the way. But when it comes to things that  _really_ matter, you spout the nicest shit in the world! I mean, just because two people are friends doesn’t mean they’re the best buddies ever. Unlike romantic relationships, friendships are _non_ -negotiable. They don’t have price tags that say ‘take it or leave it’ or ‘best offer this season’ or ‘one time only offer’—those kinds of things. Normally best buddies just take in everything—the good and the bad. There’s no such thing as leaving or giving up. That’s why the best of friendships is way  _better_ than  _any_ relationship out there. There’s no going to the next level when it comes to being best friends. You’re already on the best level… so saying it’s like a transition stage to romance or like an additional feature or app that’s ready for download onto your relationship system is bullshit to me.”

Alisha couldn’t explain it but she would always feel something warm tingling in the pit of her stomach whenever Rose was in the middle of her passionate speech—or more like rant—that revolved around any of her favorite topics—which is _any_ topic related to her and Sorey's relationship, for the most part.

Alisha sighed defeatedly, although it seemed more like she was resigned to Rose’s attitude and had no energy for debate. “We all have our own unique opinions, I guess.”

Rose was not quite done yet, however. “Look, Alish, this is  _not_ about free speech or academic freedom. This is about you and Sorey. Have you even asked yourself if there really was _ever_ something like a relationship between you and Sorey in the first place place? Or if  _that_ romance was just an overworked imagination, courtesy of everybody around the two of you who’d been wanting to make it happen _so_ badly? And that’s not to say it’s somebody’s fault, or you just got brainwashed, or it’s a delusional thing. I mean, Alisha, we make our own reality, and that reality sometimes depends on how we define ourselves, and what words we use when we do that.”

Alisha looked at Rose in wide-eyed amazement even though some part of her knew she should be livid, angry, at least insulted or embarrassed or humiliated. But no, her heart knew Rose is right. The best of friends take in everything, right or wrong, the good and the bad. There’s no room between friends for judgment or condemnation—just acceptance and understanding, together with the knowledge that nothing in the world, even the worst insults or lies, could ever tear the two of you apart or make you forget even for a second that you are each other’s world—the best gift ever that any human being could ever receive from a higher power.

A true friend in the absolute best sense of the word.

For the umpteenth time, Alisha bowed her head in resignation. How can anyone argue with Miss Practicality with the Kindest Heart in the Universe? True, Rose never gave any thought to anyone’s feelings whenever she spoke her mind. But that’s exactly what makes her special to Alisha—what makes her so radically different, in the best way possible. The fact that Rose can make a speech of everything and sound like an arrogant badass but still be a good, overprotective, over-supportive friend at the end of the day, someone who’d never let you down or give you up no matter how wrong or stupid or foolish you’ve been. That's one of her most endearing traits—most annoying maybe but still her most sincere, most charming quality. It’s the kind of character that’s not easy to find in anyone else.

So different from Sorey and yet… so achingly similar…

The comparison was unexpected—but something Alisha knew she had been fond of making even from the start ever since they were kids. Could it be…

She couldn't help but feel a deep blush spread to her face like an open fan even when she tried to suppress it.

“Hey, you all right, Alish? You look like you’re having allergies or something. Maybe that burger’s got some mushrooms in it. I know how you hate that. It makes you red and sore all over—like an overcooked crab. Here, mine’s mushroom-safe, you can have it.”

Alisha grinned back at her true friend. “That’s almost sweet.”

“Whoa, took you this long to realize something  _so_ obvious? Really, where you’ve been, girl?”

“You of all people should know better than to ask where or what a girl’s been through. Maybe I need some soul-searching so I can find that out myself.”

“Yeah same here—if only God can find my soul real quick, it’s been taking _Him_ ages!”

“Rose, just shut up and eat for once… really!”

Rose was already on it. “Aye aye, Captain!”

**o-----)o(-----o**

 

The white cape flowed seamlessly behind him as the young man stood just a few feet from Sorey, holding Mikleo in his arms.

Sorey didn’t know how to ask—if the apparition was in fact even real enough to talk to. Although from the looks of it, the other young man lying on the ground seemed solid and tangible enough to be real, a human body in flesh and blood lying there in quiet repose.

As for him, this other guy with Mikleo, he looked more like a reflection that stepped out of a mirror’s surface. Not a single hair or flicker of his eyes was original or unique.

Any other person who had seen him would say that the young man was Sorey Sheppard's double—an exact same copy down to the very last, minute detail—except for the fancy clothes, which quite honestly, gave him a regal appeal that’s no less charming.

“We need some water…”

The words sounded calm, true, but the eyes of the one who spoke them seemed to be in terrible pain.

Sorey looked away as if such emotions were supposed to be a secret. “Uhh... to be honest, I don’t know if we can find any in this dump…”

Casting a furtive glance though, Sorey noticed that those same eyes have never left Mikleo even for the tiniest fraction of a second. It was almost as if those eyes wanted to remember every line and contour of Mikleo’s face… like it was something so precious that may be taken away forever never to be seen again…

“We need water… enough to submerge him so I can heal these wounds. Is there a shrine here somewhere? Or maybe a spring… anywhere…”

Sorey felt for his car keys in his pocket. “I can drive us home…”

"We don't have time," came the quick, curt reply that almost sounded angry.

Sorey felt miffed. "Thanks for the concern but it's my job to take care of Mikle--"

“Hold him. I’ll take care of it.”

Sorey didn't have time to argue as the figure turned to him quietly. He couldn't help but notice how the arms trembled slightly as Mikleo’s cradled form was laid in his arms gently, like every piece of him could break with the slightest quiver. The young man stared at Mikleo for a few more seconds, as if looking away from him, having someone else touch him was an intolerable, agonizing feat.

“I can’t believe I’m getting jealous of myself right now…”

The unexpected remark left Sorey speechless for a minute, a feverish heat rising to his face. “Uh, by the way, are you saying you know how to drive?”

The young man tore his eyes from Mikleo with a pained frown, then shifted his gaze toward Sorey. “I know a faster way. Lend me your thoughts, this place you call home. I'll weave a Gate to let us through…”

Sorey’s face went livid as he recalled those sensations he felt when he had first entered  _that_ world and encountered _that_ voice--this young man's voice no doubt. Whatever it is called--a gate, a portal, an interdimensional teleportation capsule--Sorey doesn't care as of this moment. He can't trust anything or anyone with Mikleo's safety.

"This is urgent. I don't have to tell you how--"

“No way, anything that can hurt Mikleo is out of the question, all right!”

He heard a deep exhale and saw the young man's frown deepening impatiently. “If for a minute you think I’d ever let anyone or anything hurt him at all, then you don’t know me or even yourself…”

Sorey looked confused and alarmed. “What do you—who _are_ you really?”

A sphere of light appeared, vibrated in the space between them, flickering with a bluish hue that paled at the center. Through its transparent, cool surface, Sorey Sheppard caught the gentle sigh, felt rather than heard the racing pulse and heartbeat of the one holding his palms away at the orb, as if infusing it with a quiet, unspoken power, a will that, unlike before, felt calm, soothing, like soft rain…

“It's against my oath to speak my name or be known by anyone in this world. But I guess this much you can tell… I’m the one… the one who’d never give up Mikleo for anything or anyone. Just like you…”

Before Sorey could say anything to that, the orb of holy light swallowed them up completely, and everything fell into a quivering, humming silence, like the deep, secret silence of unspoken vows. 

 

  **o)------------o)O(o------------(o**

 

 


	4. Somebody to Die For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorey Sheppard waits impatiently for Mikleo's release from the hospital. Meanwhile, the former Shepherd struggles to keep himself from sinking into hopelessness as certain feelings and desires weigh him down. A certain seraphel tries to give him comfort by summoning an image from Sorey's buried memories... but comfort seems to be just a fading fantasy, if not a warning of things that aren't meant to be...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anything, THANKS you so much for leaving kudos and comments!!! I'm surviving thanks to all of you...  
> BTW, this chapter has sexual encounters for Sorey (which one? Read and find out...) But since I like him too much I can't say I wrote a real smutty smut. If there are below 18 readers out there, again, read with caution. (And I should listen to my own advice, hah, my mom is gonna slice me with a dull bread knife if she finds out...) Again, THANKS SO MUCH AND ENJOY!!!! :D
> 
> DISCLAIMER: The original story behind Tales of Zestiria and Tales of Zestiria the X belongs to Bandai-Namco and Ufotable respectively. Since the writer makes no profit from this labor of love and, in fact, struggles against shame and hopeless obsession every time she has to write an additional chapter for her self-pleasure and that of others like her, she respectfully makes a plea against any law suit. :D
> 
> Obsession has no shame, by the way. You've been warned. :D

 

**o)------------o)O(o------------(o**

 

_I could drag you from the ocean_

_I could pull you from the fire_

_And when you're standing in the shadows_

_I could open up the sky_

_And I could give you my devotion_

_'Til the end of time_

_And you will never be forgotten_

_With me by your side..._

_I've got nothing left to live for_

_Got no reason yet to die_

_But when I'm standing in the gallows_

_I'll be staring at the sky_

_Because no matter where they take me_

_Death I will survive_

_And I will never be forgotten_

_With you by my side_

_'Cause I don't need this life..._

_I just need somebody to die for_

_Somebody to cry for... when I'm lonely..._

 

 _-_ originally by **Hurts** , "Somebody to Die For"; cover by **Sorey Sheppard** ,

from the album **_Now, Here, but Nowhere_**

 

**o)------------o)O(o------------(o**

 

 

_What is the sound of snow falling on the surface of a deep blue lake?_

_What is the weight of a tear that has never been shed?_

_What is the meaning of an unspoken word?_

_All other things being constant, if a single petal from a cherry tree falls at five centimeters per second, then how do you measure the distance between sadness and sorrow, between sorrow and anguish?_

_And if a single smile has more secrets than all the light years between two worlds, then how many emotions, really, can be written in the stars?_

It’s been five days since Mikleo has been confined and here he is, doing his damnest best to be profound (to impress a certain someone), though now they're nothing more than silly philosophical questions to pass the time.

But just as they are silly, he must be somehow stupid. Sorey knew that his brain must be functioning below minimum capacity right now. He needs to either shut down or reboot or he would completely lose it. He tore the page where he had scribbled those questions off his notebook and crumpled it into a ball before launching it into the nearest trash bin in the corner. Then groaning impatiently, Sorey let his gaze drift from the window that offered a breath-taking view of a garden of lush evergreens and blooming white lilies and purple morning-glories to a certain door, number 211.

He sighs—no, more like winces. No matter how many rhetorical paradoxes, how many poetic lines came flooding his mind, Sorey knew it was futile.

He could barely keep himself calm enough—or distracted enough—to _not_ break down the door to Mikleo’s room.

True, he had been told for the umpteenth time by the doctor, the attending nurses, by Zenrus Sheppard himself that Mikleo needed all the private time he could have to rest and recuperate. From the second day of Mikleo’s confinement onwards Mrs. Muse Rulay herself had quietly, even cheerfully, reassured him that Mikleo was out of danger, and everything was going to be all right. Still, Sorey couldn’t help biting his fingernail every now and then. He wished someone would notice that he had been pacing back and forth outside Mikleo’s room for about an hour and someone—if someone please—would just let him take a peek to see how Mikleo’s doing, he would be more than happy to leave his post for ten minutes and stop ambushing anyone nearby to ask about Mikleo.

It’s been five days since the incident and that entire time, Sorey skipped soccer practice and only went to school to collect his and Mikleo’s homework from their teachers. This morning though, he decided to do some practice kicks and jog around the block before coming to the hospital. And he wouldn’t have the heart to do all of that if Gramps hadn’t told him, if Mrs. Muse Rulay hadn’t texted him, that today is the day Mikleo is getting a release from the hospital.

Memories of what happened five days ago flooded his mind. So did the words from the lips of someone who said they share one power, one will, one fate…

He remembered asking the young man in the white cape who he was. He did not give a straight answer.

_“I’m someone who’d never give up Mikleo… for anything or anyone. Just like you.”_

_So the nameless hero loved Mikleo sometime in his past—and still does._ Sorey wasn’t sure if that sits well with him. Try as he might he can't trust anyone else near Mikleo. Even if it were someone brimming with good intentions... someone who looked like his lost, forgotten half.

Even if he were an angel bathed in pure white light.

The moment they arrived through a so-called “gate” he was asked to find a pool in which to soak Mikleo's bruised, battered body. So the first thing he did was to carry Mikleo straight to his personal bathroom and to put him in a king-size bathtub. Then he carefully set the temperature before letting the water run into it.

Around the purple bruises on Mikleo’s translucently pale skin, black ringlets appeared, smudged with brown splotches of dried, caked blood. Sorey felt his fist clenching involuntarily at the thought of the pain throbbing in those wounds.

Until that voice broke through his senses.

“Please turn around.”

“Huh?”

I need to take off his garments.”

“WHAAATTTT??? No way you won’t!!!”

“They’ve already been tainted. It seems the Malevolence is thicker... a lot stronger in this world. Even if I still possess the powers of purification, I can't take any chances. Besides I'm not even sure if my healing artes are strong enough...” _Please Maotelus, let them be strong enough... just this once..._

“Well, you better make it work!”

That retort earned him a warning look. "Sheesh, I can't believe I'm listening to myself say _that_."

"H-hey, are you mumbling just now?"

“Everything will be fine for as long as you don't stand in the way. Unless you  _want_ to do it yourself?”

Now that was vague. "Want _what_ exactly?"

"Take off his... clothes?"

Sorey felt his jaw drop literally at that unexpected accusation. Though his mouth wanted to deny those words, he felt his skin crawl with sweat and his face grow suddenly hot. He shook his head and looked away, feeling self-conscious and hating it. "Fine, _you_ do it! But don’t get any ideas, all right?”

Similar green eyes glared at him, followed by a heavy sigh. “No time for that, he already lost too much blood.” Then fingers started peeling Mikleo’s pants off and Sorey found himself too embarrassed to look. He could hear the rustle of fabric and couldn’t keep himself from imagining how it was sliding off Mikleo’s legs while being pulled away. For some reason his heartbeat started drumming in his ears.

As soon as the tub was full enough to soak Mikleo to his collarbone, the young man drew back and started reciting an incantation in esoteric tongue. To Sorey, it almost sounded like Aramaic… and the comparison wasn’t strange. Even when he was a kid, he enjoyed sneaking into his Gramps's archives filled with hundreds and thousands of books, most of them on ancient cultures, arts, and languages.

Holding out his hand as he stood next to Mikleo’s sprawled form, the young man began to shimmer in a strange, clear, bluish sphere of light that had sparks of gold and silver hovering around the edges. Even though he was worried-sick about Mikleo’s condition, Sorey still found the scene breathtaking to watch. When the young man seemed to be finished, he went down on one knee on the floor next to Mikleo and flicked his thumb on Mikleo’s right cheek, softly, gently.

It was just a light brush but Sorey clapped him on the shoulder heavily. “Is that even necessary?”

The figure didn’t turn or reply but leaned forward ever so slightly as if to whisper something in Mikleo’s ear.

“Mikleo… it’s going to be all right. I’m here… I’ll always be here…”

Mikleo’s eyelids fluttered. Sorey couldn’t help but gasp in surprise and relief as lavender eyes shifted slightly, squinting at the brightness of the room. Then Mikleo looked around him as if in a daze, as he seemed to be aware of something missing.

Then he finds Sorey, his gaze passing right through the form before his eyes.

Sorey blinked in confusion. Though the figure did not flinch in the slightest, his face seemed to be clouded by an unreadable expression, his eyes hidden, downcast. Sorey realized something.  _Mikleo can't see him? But why?_

Mikleo’s voice dissipated all those thoughts in just one breath.

“S-Sorey? W-what—what’s going on? Where am I?”

Before he could think of an answer, the young man waved a hand in front of Mikleo. Mikleo’s eyes closed and his shoulders slumped heavily, lifelessly onto the side of the tub.

Without thinking, Sorey grabbed the shoulder in front of him and shook it rudely, violently as if crushing it would relieve his own pain. “What did you just do, you fucking bas-"

“He needs to save his strength.” The voice sounded unperturbed, but the emerald eyes that looked down had a cold, desperate look. “He lost too much blood. I can close wounds, staunch the blood flow to keep him from getting weaker, but I can’t replace what was lost.”

Sorey knew the guy must be talking about the amount of blood that had been sucked out of Mikleo by that hellion, a creature of darkness capable of possessing human bodies. 

 _Hellions..._ He couldn't help turning that over in his mind. That was the name this guy used to refer to those demonic, blood-sucking vampires. Before the encounter, he had never considered even the remotest possibility of such forms of evil existing anywhere outside the imagination. But right now, he was willing to suspend disbelief. Besides, the fact that Mikleo couldn't see this young  man he had been talking to, the same one who had slain or vanquished that hellion that had attacked Mikleo meant that there must be such things as ghosts, spiritual, or otherworldly beings that could only be perceived by special sensing abilities... by some sort of  _supra_ natural way of seeing, which neither science nor logic could demystify. 

But what was really nagging him was the tone in which the young man said those words... It seemed as if he was talking about some other loss, something taken from him that could never be replaced...

Sorey released his grip. “We need to get him to a hospital then, but first, I’ve to ask Gramps’s help. Can you stay with him? My phone’s dead but there’s one in my room I can use.”

The young man nodded slightly though he wasn’t even looking at Sorey. His gaze was on Mikleo. “I’ll stay here for as long as it takes.”

Then without the slightest hesitation, he untied his cape, set it on the floor, and lifted Mikleo out of the water onto the white mantle which he used as a blanket to cover him.

Sorey caught a glimpse of Mikleo’s stark nudity before turning away with a burning, flaming face. It was very brief but the image stuck to his mind, sending strange, warm shivers from the pit of his stomach to the tightness around his thighs. All he can think of at the moment is that there’s too much creamy skin showing and this guy _can_ see all of it.

“He would need some clothes by the way. I can’t—won’t—let anyone else see him like this.”

“Uh, you’re right. I’d be back.”

When Sorey looked over his shoulder as he turned to leave, he saw the strangest thing.

The young man leaned ever so closely toward Mikleo and caught his face between quivering fingers. Then his shoulders started trembling slightly.

Sorey left wordlessly. He never liked seeing someone trying to keep himself from crying—not when it reminds him too much of himself.  

Drifting back to the present, Sorey Sheppard just realized how much has happened in five days. And if his real feelings about the situation were to be his only anchor to reality at the moment, those days were just about as long as forever.

 

**o-----)o(-----o**

 

Everything was white. The moment Mikleo opened his eyes, he saw splotches of yellow and green and some reds, but they seemed to be adrift in some far-off distance hardly within reach of his peripheral vision. As for everything else, vague shapes and silhouettes shimmered in a feathery, misty, hazy way. He tried to strain his ears for any sound until he heard a barely audible click and the door seemed to be ajar for a minute or two. Scents came wafting in, then female voices; and if not for that all-too-familiar caustic monotone that cut through all that soft, comforting, shroud of pristine white enveloping him protectively it seems, he would certainly be still asleep.

He had never slept so peacefully in such a long time… Mikleo wanted to ponder that but his mind was like a room full of cobwebs that shut out even the faintest light, crowding the voice of reason inside his head. But even so, there is something undeniably different this time. Unlike all those cold, gray, empty nights he had spent in the apartment all by himself, with his mom working night shifts at least three times a week, there seemed to be—in these past few days that he had been slipping in and out of consciousness since the day of his confinement—a protective, encompassing presence standing by him, watching over him, coaxing his nightmares with the gentlest, most soothing words to recede into oblivion, to sink into the pool of its emerald depths.

Emerald? Mikleo had time to ponder that too. For some strange reason, his dreams only showed a timeless summer green of glade and meadow rolling into an endless distance. But whoever that was, that undeniably strong, yet gentle presence lingering over rock and tree and shadow, Mikleo felt that it deliberately avoided being seen, that it was content to remain at the boundaries, just beyond reach, just beyond the tether of light and shadow, the cascade of grass, shade, and sunshine beneath drifting clouds. And those clouds looked so pure and simple that his eyes couldn’t fix its gaze on them without being lulled into a deep, dreamless sleep. Again.

But the strident teasing—no, sarcasm—almost completely ruined it this time.

“So how long does the _sleeping beauty_ intend to make us worry, Mrs. Rulay? It’s been five days, but our Lady Meebo right here sure seems to be taking his sweet time waking up! I swear this is the worst time to be contemplating revenge but I’m seriously dumping all the council’s work on him as soon as he can move his little pinky!”

Muse didn’t show the slightest annoyance as if expecting nothing less from Edna Lefay, though she could feel the nurse checking Mikleo’s chart throwing Edna cold, furtive glances, as if more than slightly miffed at the teenager’s oddly rude and unsympathetic attitude.

Mrs. Rulay gave the nurse a brief but radiantly appreciative smile and waited for the door to close behind the young woman before turning to Edna.

“Thanks for all your help Mikleo’s gonna be up and ready pretty soon. And I’m sure he’ll more than welcome your giving him as much homework as he can handle. He may not say it much but I know he enjoys school and working side by side with a brilliant, dependable true friend who always makes sure he’s well taken care of.”

 _WHAAAAATTT???_ Mikleo felt the shock down to his toes. Where did his mom get the idea that she could say such embarrassing things for him and to Edna most of all? That’s it. There’s no changing his mind about this. He really needs to get up before his mom spouts something worse like “Edna, dearest, you’ll always be Mikleo’s perfect partner so there’s no need to worry about anything like that… I’m sure he’s dying to get back on his feet for your sake…”  Whoa… that’s a thought. Knowing his mom pretty well, Mikleo was certain she’d spout something along those lines out of concern, maybe, or because she most definitely has an odd sense of humor that, quite apparently, misunderstands his genuine, yet nothing-but-platonic relationship with Edna Lefay. Already, Mikleo flicked an eyelid open and strained to see through the dazzling lights. He could tell the window curtains had been pulled back to let in as much sunshine as they could.  

“So I see our Meebo’s _finally_ awake. So how long have you really been pretending to be asleep, Milady?”

Mikleo tried to sit up only to hear his mom’s stifled giggling—which was both awkward and exaggerated that Mikleo felt like sinking back into the mattress with a pillow over his head.

“As soon as I realized I’d be waking into a nightmare?”

“Shut up you ungrateful, spoiled brat!” Edna’s face was fuming red and she leaned just a little bit too closely to make sure he could see the deep scowl on her face. “I’ve been on my toes since you decided to get sick and now you _dare_ use that tone on me? Let me remind you, I didn’t come here to offer sympathies! I came to give you tons of homework for the weekend—‘cause that’s exactly what you deserve for being such a meeb!”

Mikleo simply winced back. “So I was right. This IS a nightmare.”

Mrs. Rulay leaned forward to give him a kiss on the forehead. “I never thought how cute you two really are when you’re getting along so well…”

“Mom!” Mikleo’s eyes practically bulged out of their sockets. “You’re NOT helping at all!”

“Now, now, Meebo, are you already having a heart attack?” Edna was grinning like she was enjoying herself too much, though her caustic monotone was the same as always. “‘Cause if you are, that’s a good sign you’ve got enough blood in your system to keep you pumped! If Mrs. Rulay weren’t here in fact, I’d be more than happy to kick you out of bed and into the council room so you could finish all that paperwork due next week!”

“Really,” Mikleo grimaced, “you guys are two of a kind—the _only_ kind whose jokes border on overkill. It must be fun to watch a patient struggle to survive only to die from a serious case of foul humor.”

“Stop being too serious then, Sick-leo Luzrov Rulay! It’s not like your new boyfriend would appreciate the sight of worry warts and wrinkles on that flawless, ethereal, untouchable beauty of yours.”

That took Mikleo completely by surprise. Almost immediately his face was flooded by all shades of crimson, and to think his mom was just right there, seated beside Edna next to a side table that somehow seemed invisible with all the flowers—tulips, roses, and other sweet-smelling blooms he couldn't name—crowding each other on top of it. As Mikleo threw his mom a furtive glance to see how she’s taking all that careless bantering, he couldn’t help but feel incredulous. His mom looked so relaxed and composed as if she was plainly listening to her standard, classical favorites—Bach and Beethoven for example…

Come to think of it, didn’t he promise to take her to a piano concert next weekend? Mikleo had been planning to spend the entire day with her on her birthday doing those things she loved the most. She deserved nothing less…

But to be honest, it was all he could think of to keep himself from being shoved back into that _other_ reality that he just didn’t want to deal with at the moment. It wouldn’t do well to admit that _that_ particular reality was quickly becoming a distraction even in his fevered dreams.

“Look Edna, I don’t even know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t. Because just like _that_ guy, you don’t get jokes—my jokes most of all. Or were you hoping I was telling nothing but the truth so-help-me-God?”

Mikleo felt the blush deepening and cleared his throat. “No way, why should I?”

“You know the answer to that better than anyone. Or are you saying all of that effort on Sorey Sheppard’s part just went to waste? Don’t you know that as we speak he’s right outside that door sniffing out everyone who’d dare come near you like a perfect regular bloodhound? I’m practically amazed no one in this hospital has been ambushed yet by his gazillion fans who’d most likely be on the verge of suicide once they find out the _real_ reason their sports-teen idol’s been missing in action for the past week.”

“You’re kidding me right?” Mikleo asked but with eyes averted, as if the opposite wall has suddenly become interesting. “He’s got soccer practice matches and a lot of other celebrity stuff to keep him busy.”

Edna huffed. “Why don’t YOU point that out to your over-excited-I-can’t-get-over-this-feeling boy-friend-fanboy then? Let’s see if you can get him to budge an inch from where he’s standing guard right now. Mr. Zenrus Sheppard had practically given up and called an army of reinforcements just to make sure you and your sweet Sorey could have some _privacy_. If you were awake during all that commotion, you’d mistake yourself for a VIP hostage requiring the attention of the entire military. I won’t be surprised if you two decide to elope on a helicopter just to get away from everyone—geez—and I thought cheesy-as-a-movie lovebirds in heat only exist in trashy romance novels—if people even bother to read books these days!”

 _Lo-lovebirds in heat?_ _Seriously?_ Mikleo almost choked even when he was just swallowing air. What the hell happened while he was unconscious? He knew from way back that it was quite usual for him to have these fainting episodes, to be confined to bed for days. When he was about seven or eight years old, his mom carefully explained to him that he has always been severely anaemic. Once he had to spend a month in the hospital without having any idea how he got there and what might have happened to him before he got there. Although having severe memory loss was not a normal part of his medical condition, and basically most of his memories seemed to be intact anyway except those prior to the confinement, Mikleo has never really considered his situation a crisis. Even as a child, he understood that he needed blood transfusions and regular check-ups in case of rejection or organ complications, and that worrying about it is not going to change things.

What _does_ bother him is the fact that his condition is probably one—no, the _only_ —reason he has never played sports as a kid. Because he was smaller than other kids his age and was so much thinner than what seemed healthy or masculine by any standards, he had been frequently bullied as a sissy wallflower who was good _only_ at studying and bad at everything. It didn’t help that he was really bad—even horrible—when it comes to sports. Denying it was just self-deception; he knew exactly that his weaknesses were mostly the result of poor health and constitution, which he constantly tried to rationalize by resorting to prejudiced views about athletic people in general. Mikleo admits he lacked maturity in that aspect—but acknowledging his own failings, of course, doesn’t cure it. That might explain why he never developed any appreciation for sports—or for people like Sorey Sheppard who seem to be naturally energetic, dynamic, and over-passionate about everything.

Shoving those thoughts aside, Mikleo tried not to look too flustered, knowing his mom was well within earshot. But there’s no way those oh-so-explicit nuances in Edna’s blunt sarcasm can be misunderstood or ignored—even though Mikleo knew better than to react to them. Then again, the mere fact that she could joke about them right here right now in front of no less than his mom could mean a lot has happened while he was unconscious—and _a lot_ simply meant that Sorey Sheppard must have been involved far more deeply than what was good for him.

“Oh, and know what else? Sorey’s tutoring offer is considered accepted, all right? Mrs. Rulay herself had talked to Mr. Zenrus Sheppard about it, so consider yourself his _one and only_ — _guide_ —until he’s had enough of your brains, that is. In any case, at least you got yourself a decent job for the rest of the school year.”

“Mom?” Mikleo was looking for confirmation though he couldn’t tell at the moment whether he preferred a positive or a negative one.

“You might want to discuss it with him, honey, but from how I understand it, Sorey really needs help and he seems to have been able to prove that he can and will take good care of you while he’s at it. You know I don’t approve of your getting a part-time job that would steal time from your studies, but since you and Sorey are in the same grade and the same school, it shouldn’t be _that_ inconvenient for you two to set some time for studying. Besides I do worry thinking about you being home all by yourself when I’m working.”

Mikleo crossed his arms over his chest. “Why do I get the feeling you’re on HIS side? It’s almost as if you wanna adopt him or something…”

Edna scrunched up her nose at that. “Jell-leo…”

“Stop that!” Mikleo bristled, cheeks flushed. “I—I’m NOT jealous, sheesh, why are _some_ people so annoying so early in the day!” A furtive glance at the clock on the wall opposite him confirmed the time. It was only 7 a.m.

Mrs. Rulay laughed a little. “Well, seeing Sorey so grown up I just couldn’t help wondering about—I mean—”

Mikleo suddenly became curious at the odd way his mom seemed to be over-cautious about what she was about to say next. “You knew Sorey personally even before this incident, is that why—”

“Seriously Meebo, who wouldn’t know a kid that popular anyway? Wanna see the diamond studs on his underwear to believe?”

“Edna! Do you really have to spout embarrassing stuff every five seconds?”

“Gosh, you really _are_ in a sour mood. And to think I’m the one who’s supposed to have quite an _acid_ ulous personality around here.”

Mrs. Rulay touched her son’s arm with a gentle caress that showed more than anything how precious Mikleo was—how the thought of losing him made her sick with worry and concern, far more than she’s willing to show. “Uh, sorry to interrupt your conversation but today is the day I should be going back to work… I talked to the doctor and he says you’re good to go as soon as you’re ready.”

Mikleo’s eyes widened and a quick smile that was a rarity in itself beamed back at her. “So you’re going to pick me up later? Or is it okay to just get a taxi… I mean, I’m really feeling a lot better now… If you’re going to be pretty busy, I’m sure I can manage. So no worries, all right?”

Mrs. Rulay smiled fondly, her eyes brimming with so many emotions at once. “Someone begged me to take care of that for you. And I don’t want to disappoint him after learning what he’s been through and how concerned he was—it’s the least I can do to show how much I appreciate everything he’s done.”

Edna rolled her eyes at that. “Just look at the flowers, Meebo. If we didn’t try to stop that person from overdoing it, you’d die of pollen suffocation or much worse, get stung by bees. That Sheppard has no shame.”

Mrs. Rulay smiled meaningfully and tugged Mikleo’s ear playfully. “Be nice to him, dear. Knowing how you hate elitism and all the social class notions it stands for, I think I should remind you that Sorey might be one of those startling exceptions you might want to get to know a little bit more. He’s no ordinary book you can judge by the cover. He might love the exact same things you hate but he’s not the type who’d take that against you. I guess you can say he’s just too adorably sweet and kind when it comes to you—so be nice to him all right?”

Mikleo gripped the edge of the blanket on his lap so tightly the whites of his knuckles showed visibly. “I guess we have our relatives to thank for all of my social class notions anyway. Rejecting dad because of what he didn’t have rather than appreciating him for the kind of person he was—that’s unfair and just plain cruel even if a lot of people out there think that’s understandable. I guess the more I think about it, the harder it is to see upper-class society as anything more than a shallow, vicious, self-centered universe run by war-freaks and narcissists. And I don't know how anyone can disprove that... if you look closely at the way things are... as an outsider.”

Edna looked away. “I don't mind hearing you rant about the plastic universe and the great social class divide. It's not like I can afford not to look at the way it rears its ugly head every day, geez. But regarding your dad, may his soul rest in peace... my dad and Mr. Rulay together with some _other_ person were college buddies. And they all loved sports did you know that?

Mikleo was quiet. Of course he did.

Muse Rulay smiled. “Quite true. They were the coolest and hottest guys in campus those days—if you permit the expression.”

Mikleo frowned. “All right, fine. So odd man out is me?”

“Always were," Edna snickers. "Gods, you’re the only one I know who hate the filthy-rich with a vengeance! Not that I care, ‘cause I know it’s an issue connected to your dad, and Mrs. Rulay never really kept that part a secret, right?”

Mrs. Rulay nodded. “Not all truths are perfect or pleasant—but that doesn’t necessarily make them shameful.”

“And besides,” Edna grins, letting the corner of her mouth arch knowingly. “Meebo probably believes that what is good and what is right are always one and the same. You do over-read _Kant_ , you know, sheesh… it’s _sooo_ Frankfurt school of thought.”

Mikleo wasn’t sure if he was being complimented but it made him feel a little awkward just the same. “You give me far too much credit.”

"Yeah right, no reason to be smug about it, though! I've always known you to be a little bit choosy and sensitive when it comes to people, not to mention having that annoying, social-justice streak in you even way back during daycare. Like you always get your nose into other people's troubles like you don’t have some of your own to take care of. Now I’m certain some things _never_ change—even in this small universe of yours I guess…”

Mikleo grins widely, almost gloating back. “Know what? I couldn’t agree more. The universe does feel _small_ when I think of you.”

“Huh,” Edna huffs, "says the one who's gonna need elevator boots when he gets to college! That aside, you have nothing to worry about, Mrs. Rulay, I’d be keeping tabs on Meebo and Sheppard. After all, you never can tell what teenagers have in mind when you give them the chance.” With that, Edna threw Mikleo a knowing sidelong glance that just about made the latter’s face burn up.

“Fine, have it your way Tinker Bell,” Mikleo snickers, returning her glare while trying not to look _too_ embarrassed. “Thank god you’re tiny or just about the size of an extra-large—ouch! Hey, is that how you treat a patient?”

Edna scowls back, relentlessly unapologetic after just giving that stray lock of silver hair on Mikleo’s cheek a nasty tweak. “Watch your mouth Meebo! I know the saying ‘small is beautiful’ but calling me _tiny_ is just a bit too much!”

“Munchkins are mean—ouch! Edna! Stop it already!”

Just as Mikleo was about to get his revenge by pulling Edna’s ponytail, he caught sight of his mom waving goodbye from the door before it clicked closed behind her. All of a sudden Mikleo felt nervous, though he couldn’t tell why he should be. It’s not like he should be worried about anything at all…

Edna snickered as if she knew the exact reason behind Mikleo’s strange mood. “So? What’s your problem? Worried about Sorey? It’s a job like no other.”

Mikleo gave her a withering glare. “Well, I  _don't_ remember asking for one.”

“And I don’t remember you _never_ needing one! Admit it, Rulay, anything is better than flipping burgers at Maggie  & Donald’s, plus, you get an hourly rate worth a cashier’s weekly paycheck at Kozco… And that’s SO much better than doing whatever odd jobs out there that, you know, perpetuate the slavery of the feeble, pitiful, _meebo_ poor.”

“Gosh, how sympathetic of you.”

“Whoa, in love with me already?”

“Sheesh, seriously! How could you drop my name just like that?"

"Running that proud peacock number again, Meebo Luzrov Rulay—”

“When are you gonna quit calling me Meebo? I’m already seventeen years old, not some kid back in nursery school! Gosh, Edna, sometimes you really—”

“Fine, Mikleo whatever! I’d have you know you’re barking up the wrong tree but if you still wanna blame the eternally forgiving, ethereal beauty Edna here, go ahead, see if I care! But I’m gonna say this only once—don’t make the mistake of underestimating Sorey Sheppard—he’s definitely more than meets the eye. Get to know the guy behind the celebrity—there’s really nothing to it. If you ask me, he’s kinda transparent, no surprises, easy to read if you’re looking in the right place. But in case it doesn’t work out, I’m willing to do anything you ask in exchange for your needless suffering. Practically anything. Of course I’d be disappointed if you’re thinking of something filthy and perverted—because you’re such a meeb!”

Mikleo’s jaw dropped. “Me perverted? When was that?”

Edna snickered. “You did see my _panties_ when I was cheerleading…”

“What the— _THAT_ doesn’t count! We were only eight and you flipped your baton the wrong way and kicked my jaw by accident and we tumbled to the ground like hell and then your butt was suddenly on my face!”

“So the lewd, leery, lascivious you is _finally_ admitting it?”

Mikleo groaned. “I seriously don’t get any of this.”

Edna’s eyes seem to shimmer with a soft, almost nostalgic expression. “You’d be fine once you give up being such a worry-wart. You know I’m always behind you. Miles behind you but still closer than friends you _wished_ you had.”

“Wow,” Mikleo snickered. “You really know how to comfort a friend, don’t you? Must be my lucky day.”

“You bet it is your lucky day, Rulay. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you end up running Sorey’s fan club and being a regular stalker sneaking into the men’s shower room to take pics of his _glorious manhood_.”

Mikleo stared back at her with a clenched fist. “Sheesh, how could you even imagine me having the hots for the likes of him? Only guys with butt-envy's crazy enough to do something like that!”

“So, you already noticed that much huh?” Edna’s throaty voice and raised eyebrows were shamelessly leery. “How about his biceps? Do you have biceps-envy as well? I mean, Freud did accuse women of having peni--”

“Uh-hnnn…” Someone cleared his throat from behind the door that stood ajar. “Guys, you’re not talking about me, are you?”

Mikleo bristled, feeling his face grow hot the second he heard Sorey’s voice, as if that was the most _normal_ reaction his body could manage at the moment. Sheppard was standing just a few feet away, smiling with boyish charm, his red, white, and yellow striped practice uniform emphasizing his height and strikingly lean, firm, evenly muscled arms and legs. In his athletic uniform, Sorey Sheppard’s magnetic personality shines even more. But what Mikleo thought girls found so appealing about him was the fact that despite his attention-grabbing handsomeness, there was something innocent yet refreshingly raw and masculine about him, like his unruly swamp of chestnut brown hair, which always looked charmingly and naturally disheveled, and those green eyes of his, which sparkled with a shining clarity that betrayed a trusting but fragile sense of pride that seems forgiving but easily provoked. Vaguely he wondered whether the ace athlete may indeed be, as both his mom and Edna claim, someone worth seeing beyond appearances. Because if he were to trust his original impressions it would seem Sorey was just… simply Sorey. What you see is what you get.

That sort of Sorey.

And if tutoring him means spending the rest of the term stuck to his side, well, one thing’s for sure—Mikleo must be ready to experience the workings of slavery first hand, only this time, he’d rather call it voluntary suffering with survival benefits—just to assuage his uncompromising ego.              

Mikleo sighed. _And survival benefits are what I practically live for… I guess._

“Uhh… Mikleo? Is—is it okay to come in? I’m not interrupting anything am I?” Sorey stood at the doorway, wearing a worried almost panicky expression.

“Mikleo so quickly?” Edna was the first to react. “To think you play hookie with me now and then but call me _Miss Lefay_ , you big, snotty jerk!”

Sheppard blushed. “Err… h-hookie? When did I—”

“Don’t you know how to have fun, Sheppard? Even a girl like me knows how to play, y’know. At least you’re not some panty-gazing pervert like this meeb here.”

Sorey stared at Mikleo, eyes widening like saucers. “Y-you’re into girls’ pant—”

“Gosh, Edna, will you stop making it worse!” Mikleo looked away, swathing his face.

“All right, it was a joke, gods, isn’t it your fault you guys are such noobs? For a playboy, you seem to take everything a girl says seriously, Sheppard… I mean, _too_ seriously…”

“Uh, all right, all right, I won’t in your case and sorry Mikleo, my bad…” Sorey raised his palm in surrender. “So can I come in already?”

“Hey, you’re the boss so why don’t you just invite yourself in, geez. By the way, why are you being sorry for hurting Meebo’s feelings while admitting you’re a playboy? Good luck trying to impress the meeb—not that he needs to be impressed.”

“H-hey, I-I’m not admitting anything at all! That playboy thing is just a fluke, an image, I mean, it's just those writers exaggerating everything for the movies and whatever else!” Sorey protested a little too strongly. Mikleo winced even more, seeing how Edna was enjoying herself wrapping them around her little pinky. He groaned a little too loudly.

Sorey’s gaze shifts back to Mikleo and for a few seconds, their eyes seem to just gaze into each other in embarrassed silence, green and lavender meeting in the middle wordlessly as if saying something might give away a secret. Edna clears her throat and Sorey scrunches his face, index finger going up one cheek to scratch at it self-consciously. “Uh, oh, by the way… err, Mikleo…?”

Mikleo raises an eyebrow. “Huh, what is it?”

A doofus smile beams at him and Edna shakes her head, muttering “weird” under her breath. Sorey grins awkwardly at that. “Since the car’s ready, I hope we can grab a bite before heading to my place. I talked to Miss Muse and she said it’s okay for as long as I get you home safe and sound before dinner. Besides, that'll give us time to discuss the terms of you know… my… uh… job proposal for you. It’s not like you have to start right away—don’t get me wrong! I just think you might err… wanna get to know me more—sort of—since we’d be working closely for the rest of the school year…”

Mikleo nods but finds it almost impossible to hold Sorey’s gaze so he stares at the flowers instead. “I see.”

Edna can’t stand it and groans loud enough to make both of them almost jump. “Well, let’s hope it’s the _only_ proposal you’d bother to give this classic Meebo-dick! In any case, I’m outta here. Just a reminder—” Edna pauses by the door, her deep summer blue eyes suddenly serious in a scary way. “Don’t play too rough, Sheppard. Our Lady Meebo is a fragile thing. He’d break into tiny little pieces if you try anything rash or violent—like even a simple French ki—”

“Really, that’s enough, Edna, please,” Mikleo groaned, swathing his face for the second time as his neck suddenly becomes unbelievably hot. “I’m still alive and I already feel the flames of hell!”

“Well, if you’re itching to lose your virginity, have fun, see if I care! Just don’t ask me for advice if you get pregnant—”

A pillow flies across the room. “Just get out already, sheesh!!!”

It misses Edna by a long shot and she gets a few more precious seconds to give Sorey one of her hard-as-agates stares before Mikleo could launch a fresh volley of pillows and what-have-you. “Oh, and please, Sheppard… before you even start imagining _how_ to do _it_ , make sure your wallet’s got enough condo—”

“Clam it and disappear!!!” Mikleo felt he could just die of shame.

Snickering with a scornful glare that just seems _too_ glaring, Edna slips out the door, which just as quickly shuts with a final click it seems. Mikleo winces but finds it impossible to meet Sorey's gaze. The silence of the room was almost deafening, but neither Sorey nor Mikleo had the courage or the _coolness_ to complain.

Mikleo swore he could hear his every breath and heartbeat as he tried to think of anything to say—just anything! Or maybe the sound of it seemed so loud because he was hearing both their heartbeats.

Sorey seems to be struggling with the same awkward predicament. But unlike Mikleo who seemed obviously flustered and shamefaced while trying _too_ hard not to look self-conscious at all, Sorey simply smiled to himself, appreciating the feeling of being in that awkward moment.

He must be really weird to be this happy anyway.

 

**o-----)o(-----o**

 

“Lord Sorey… do you not wish to speak with Guild Master Uno regarding the seals on the Five Lords? There is word that the awakening seems to be progressing... though he couldn't be quite certain if you'd agree on interpreting the signs of it.”

Long, tapering fingers snaked their way onto Sorey’s chest, finding the unusual, comforting warmth of human skin, of living human flesh temptingly irresistible to the touch. The fingers lingered on the partially unbuttoned collar of the dark, blue tunic that the Shepherd wore more out of habit than anything practical. Although there is definitely no need for formalities or for any reminders of his once true identity as the former Shepherd of the Age of Chaos, Sorey continues to don his usual garments.

But this time, he laid aside his Shepherd’s cloak and quite absent-mindedly began to peel the rest of his clothing off his pained and exhausted body while ignoring the cold, slender fingers that were doing their best to help him out. Fully naked, he walked to the crystal-clear pool and stepped into it, soaking himself up to his midriff. He sighed wearily as the waters met his agitated skin, dissipating the disturbing heat that seemed to have started accumulating inside of him since he had gone to that _other_ world the Gate led him to. Despite the exhaustion and the heavy weariness he felt, he was a bit surprised he could still appreciate such simple things as a bath. He need not remind himself that the pool was one of the last remaining pure, crystal-clear springs that could be found in the continent, and that it was not coincidental that the spring was located beneath the rocks and inside the caves that serve as a shrine.

Right now, that shrine is his one and only untouchable sanctuary, an enclosure of moss, fern and rock with a clear, warm, shallow spring at the center surrounded by a familiar mural.

He gazed up at the painted figures and carvings on the smooth, polished surface of the wall facing him and, for a second, felt his lips smiling just a little.

_Luzrov Rulay..._

There is no other place in this world on which he could write the name of that soul that made this place worth going back to…

He was about to close his eyes and sink into the welcome heat of the pure, untainted waters when once more, he felt cold fingertips graze his skin. They caressed his collarbone with occasional feather-like flicks, perhaps attempting to be sensual or is that really it? After all Sorey _could not_ know what sensual meant when it was somebody else’s touch that he truly missed, that he truly wanted and hungered for. Though he still bristled at this unwanted touch, he did not flinch too strongly.

Maybe he has gone past all caring to feel even the slightest disgust.

“You have been exceptionally quiet these past few days, my Lord... Do you wish me to entertain you with the artes I’ve just learned from the _Enchantments_ _of Avarost_? The few remaining seraphim we’ve managed to save proved themselves great teachers. And breeding them with hellions makes them even more useful in fighting and suppressing the Malevolence that still lingers in cities long dead, destroying what remains of Glenwood.”

Sorey’s brow twitched. But it had little to do with the fingertips lacing themselves into each other, now clasped around his chest in an intimate embrace as the figure kneeled beside the pool, her cheek almost touching his from behind.

“You are saving what can be saved with the best of your abilities and the worst of circumstances, my Lord. True, we haven’t found any human survivors even in the places farthest from the battlefields and the ruins of Pendrago where the Malevolence is strongest. But at least we’ve tried… all these two thousand years we’ve done nothing but try. You should not despair too much.”

Sorey could not think of anything to say to that. Maybe he had not heard clearly or simply refused to understand what Symonne was saying. By some twist of fate or the imagination, she, his once-enemy, is now an ally, one of the most talented and hard-working among the seraphel who insisted on looking after his personal needs, even while serving as the Guild Masters' trusted messenger and aide.

Of course, she is a mixed- or half-breed like most of the seraphim remaining in this world. But it doesn't mean that Sorey  _ever_  thought of breeding as acceptable by any means. He never gave his consent to the Guild Masters on the matter of letting seraphim and hellions mate, resulting in the creation of seraphel. It wasn't as if the Masters thought of it as inherently desirable... It was more of a decision that simply took advantage of the way things already were after the Malevolence had completely overtaken Glenwood and their entire world. 

Then again the existence of strange, mixed breeds produced by crossing hellions with normal creatures is hardly a novelty. Very few have encountered grifkytes, breed wolves, the Rougarou or the Griffin, even the likes of what is also known as the Bisclavret, a hellion werewolf, and the so-called Lord of the Beasts, a one-eye, one-foot, one-arm hellion believed to have the power to summon all the demonic creatures of the Forest of Lailoken, otherwise known as _the madman’s forest_ , with a single howl. But these creatures, these monsters prowling Glenwood’s shadows are as real as his own right hand.

Sorey flicks a look at the figure next to him. Compared with others, Symonne hardly looks any different from a human.

That is how seraphel differ from pure hellions or even humanoid hellions. Rather than being savage or voraciously cannibalistic as their other half, they are beautiful, poised, and almost elegant. Except when provoked by predators, they are tame creatures who have the ability to regenerate using human vessels—human corpses to be exact—which are revived or ‘refreshed’ with the use of forbidden seraphic artes. That is why in appearance, seraphel are more human-like than any other hellion. And from what he can only vaguely surmise from his own studies—he stayed far away from books that teach the forbidden artes—seraphim traits, mostly physical ones, are near-impossible to reproduce or pass on to their half-hellion offspring, since the properties that constitute their physique are virtually incompatible with the constitution of any other creature or race, human, hellion, or some other kind. The fact that most seraphim are invisible to humans already suggests that the physical conditions of their existence hardly follow ordinary laws. In fact, as the Guild Masters had observed in their studies and experiments, something like a natural toxin is produced within the body of a maturing seraphel that decomposes those parts that it had inherited from its hellion  _parent_ as it matures (not that parenting is even a remote possibility among hellions who have the rapacious tendency to devour their own offspring as soon as it is born). And this is most likely the reason half-breeds like them are in constant need of human bodies as temporary vessels.

In most ways though, the seraphel are capable of as much learning and wisdom as any mortal or seraph.

Still, Sorey is loathe to think that the seraphim could mate, could breed like animals in heat…

And with hellions of all creatures. It becomes so much worse to imagine that these hellions can possess living human bodies to mate with humans and seraphim alike… like that savage monster who dared touch that certain untouchable someone…  

His chest was hurting again. He wanted the seraphim to be pure… wanted them to be protected from the taint of the Malevolence… especially _him_ … but…

In the centuries that the Malevolence leaked and seeped into every known nook and corner of the world, the compulsion among the tainted seraphim became too strong to control or resist. Very few seraphim even survived, let alone could remain pure and untainted after centuries of exposure to the contaminating, contagious relentless power of that dark, unknown energy that he thought he had finally vanquished through Maotelus’s purification. Sorey was the only one who has not fallen—yet. And the reason is all too clear.

But it is a reason which cannot be spoken, as his oath dictates. It was his Oath of Purity, his sacred vow of chastity.

Deep in his heart, those prayers have a deeper meaning.

That oath was a solemn promise he had made to the one he cared for the most—to his _first, last_ , and _only_ …

To the one whom he vowed to love until the end and _after_ the end if their souls could endure even that…

In other words, until the very end of this eternal, infinite damnation to which all his hopes and dreams—their hopes and dreams—have been chained. This same hell is where he, the last Shepherd Seraph of the Old World, wishes to spend the remains of his useless existence—if only the Heart of the Malevolence would be content to be sealed in its vessel where it had promised to remain. In exchange for Sorey’s oath and the lives of both humans and the seraphim as sacrifice, the Heart of the Malevolence promised to let this old, dying world be redeemed. But of course, even with Sorey’s abilities and all the powers congealed by that potent force, such a feat is near-impossible to accomplish.

But how did it all begin? His memories always dwell on the final moments, as if tragedies are only meant to tell the beginning of the end…

He recalls the final hours of that losing battle. He remembers Camlann—always the final battle-ground—where one might find the legendary Sea of Fire and Ice. It is in that broken place where the souls of all the mortals who have perished in the wars were sealed by him and the few remaining seraphim survivors who were with him during that final hour of defeat, the last battle with the True Lord and Origin of the Malevolence in which even the powers of the Herald-Knights of Celestia were devoured by the eternal all-consuming flames of the Malevolence. But in the process of sealing those souls, the lives of his remaining allies had to be sacrificed. Those pure and untainted seraphim who accompanied him to Camlann had to perish in the end. They did so in the belief that in sacrificing their power, _that_ fateful day would surely come, when the Five Lords would awaken from their deep slumber. Like him, they believed that only the Innominat, the lords of the elements of fire, earth, wind, and water and the protector of the balance among these elements, could unite what was broken and put an end to the forces of chaos that ravaged the world. Only the most powerful divine beings who ever walked the mortal realms—Lord Musiphe, Lord Eumacia, Lord Hyanoa, Lord Amenoch, and Lord Maotelus—could heal the wounds that caused needless suffering to both humans and seraphim even when it meant persecution by the higher beings, the immortals of Celestia.

Unlike before when the sacrifice was his alone to make, he was the sole survivor in that tragedy. He was compelled to witness the perdition of his loyal comrades, seraphim warriors and guardians all, who stood by him until the very end.

But the dream remains a dream only until one wakes up. To Sorey, the cost of that dream seemed far greater than all its broken promises. Like everybody else, he had lost many precious friends… but it was different when you're the one who had to stay behind... when you have to survive if only to feel and endure that loss… and to live in that loss until all feelings die and disappear into oblivion…

But maybe Symonne was right all along. Resorting to sacrifices… it was the best he could do… the only thing he could do to save what could be saved. And it was part of the pact he had made with the Heart of the Malevolence that lies within the core of the Insidion, the darkest, most perfidious existence of them all…

The Insidion was the curse that he, Sorey, had unwittingly unleashed, triggering the most evil of all calamities, including the wars among the seraphim.

He remembers that day so clearly—when the forsaken jewel of destruction that seals the True Lord and Origin of the Malevolence was discovered that fateful day in the ruins of Avalonia, the Lost Pure Land. That forbidden stone, which seals the darkest, most ancient secrets of the universe, had been hidden away in those ruins from the very beginning of all beginnings…

And he and that precious soul, the one-who-will-not-be-named, had unsealed it… by chance, by fate, or by the will and wisdom of an unknown higher power no one can tell.

Once unleashed, the Insidion’s powers cannot be stopped. Its malice is irreversible, overpowering, a poison that kills the mind and the will, preying on the darkest emotions of lust and greed, hate and envy. The divine gods were no more immune than the seraphim and the more vulnerable mortals who once sought their protection. Wars between and among the Herald-Knight seraphim of Celestia and the seraphim of the mortal realms broke out when the gods decided to intervene and began a process of racial cleansing. The Leviathan, made up of the Five Eternal Gods, ordered the Herald-Knights, the celestial seraphim who serve as their guardians, to carry out the one and final, absolute purging of the world. That meant eliminating, sealing, and even killing any living being or creature prone to the corrupting influence of the Insidion—which included those seraphim who had been in contact with the human world.

And with a powerful will and resolve, the Herald-Knights obeyed. They started a war with their own kind the objective of which was simple but no less terrifying—to annihilate all humans and seraphim that could be found in those mortal places exposed to the Malevolence.

As a former Shepherd, he found that decision unbelievably cruel and unjust. The seraphim he had known and befriended and loved had given so much of themselves, had given this imperfect world their blessings, their loyalty and protection. They had tried to co-exist peacefully, though not always ideally.

But the Insidion is an ancient arch-enemy that is feared more than hated. And so the gods—most of all the omnipotent Leviathan—would rather destroy anything that touches and breathes its evil, rather than sacrifice themselves in the hope of saving what can be saved.

And here everyone thought—even the wisest of sages—that everything began and ended with Maotelus. Even he thought that purifying Maotelus, the Lord of Calamity, would bring an end to centuries of chaos.

But neither Maotelus—nor anyone in the universe with an equal or greater power—can create evil itself. For evil is more ancient than the seraphim and the gods… It was there even before the Age of Asgard, the Temperance of Avarost, even before the earliest recorded histories that chronicle the existence of any kingdom, of any creature, divine, mortal or immortal.

Evil is as ancient as the universe that created such a power or was created by it.

But how could anyone have known at that time—least of all him—that beyond Maotelus was an eternal balance that existed even before Time itself was created? That the existence of evil meant the existence of the balance between good and evil, between chaos and creation, between life and death, mortal and immortal? That the essence of this balance is _the absolute law_ , the ultimate power that transcends all existence?

And this law of absolute order and chaos is exactly the power of the _Insidion_ , the power of _The_ _True Lord and Origin of the Malevolence_. It is the very heart and soul of the universe that the ancient gods feared and hated because it was a threat. The gods have cast it down, allowed it to dwell in the human world as a silent sinner, a secret curse. Using the seraphim as guardian protectors, the immortal beings of Celestia intended to keep the True Lord and Origin of the Malevolence sealed through the powers of purification. But how could such artes hope to overcome something profoundly evil when evil has no enemy greater than itself, when its powers obey no other will except its own? So it was revealed to him that the seraphim’s original task was to be an instrument for sealing the Insidion—to insure that the Origin of the Malevolence would never stray near the celestial realms, would never escape its mortal bonds. The Insidion was never to be allowed anywhere near Celestia, the Ancient Kingdom, the final dwelling-place of the divine beings, who feared the taint of mortality and death that would and could surely end their boundless immortal existence.

For the Insidion created Time, and as such, is the only power that can destroy Time itself, leaving things as they were from the very beginning.

And in the beginning there was nothing but the appalling nothingness. It is the one thing that exists (before existence itself) that no life-force or spirit of creation can defeat because it alone surpasses, precedes, and exceeds everything. It alone may exist before and after everything—before and after creation, death, and destruction. To that extent, how can anyone—even the gods themselves—understand creation from the point of view of the result, rather than the cause? How can one ponder the cause that began from nothing?

That _nothing exists_ is the greatest paradox of the universe, the unresolved ambiguity, the greatest of contradictions. And nothing is the antithesis of everything that lives, as Time is immortality’s nemesis, the only blade that could cut through the chains of eternity.

Now, after two thousand years of learning and unlearning the ancient codes of wisdom recorded in the ruins of the world, there is that one, other, tragic truth that dawned on him...

 _Nothing can be known about nothingness itself_.

While it took him two thousand years of solitary travels throughout the world to understand what cannot be known—to discover the limits of knowledge and understanding—he believes it might take longer than that to accept the implications of such limits, the truth they represent.

And he has already accepted so many impossible things—things that have made his heart tired and weary. There is only one impossible thing he would not accept—one loss he could not and would never endure.

He could not go on without _him_ —his heart, the very threshold of his soul...

This time his heart is too consumed by grief, by desire, by all things forbidden to _not_ want to be selfish. He would have to break his oath.

He too, would have to fall. Eventually.

And fall he must.

But not with her… or anyone else…

“My Lord…” Symonne's voice becomes a soft whimper, a mocking complaint meant to tease him. But his heart won’t be teased, even as the fingers entered the surface of the pool and glided against his taut skin, caressing the buds that stood out on the surface, before gliding further along the length of his torso, seeking that impatient heat that he knew belonged to someone else—separate but no different from him. All his human emotions, thoughts, fantasies, and desires congealed in that _other self_ , that other half of his soul that split from his essence when he tried to cleave the power of the Insidion using the powers of the Five Lords, and the powers of purification that the other seraphim lent him.

The mistake that resulted from that foiled attempt was catastrophic. Not only did it send the Five Lords into a state of indefinite sleep in the Catacombs of Tintagel until their life-force recovered from its spiritual wounds; it also weakened him by dividing his spiritual energies, forcing the more human, weaker part of him to become a separate entity, to materialize into a vessel devoid of all the spiritual abilities of the Shepherd.

But even a losing battle can be an act of grace that gives wisdom for failure. When he attempted to purify the Insidion, he came upon an ancient secret: that even the most evil, the darkest most insidious of powers cannot exist without its contradiction.

That all things harbor a contradiction in themselves that they may never even know exist.

In other words, the very seeds of power contained within the Malevolence harbored the secrets to its own defeat—a defeat which is never permanent but which also frustrates absolute victory. Unfortunately, that temporary defeat came with the most terrible price: the Heart of the Malevolence, the contradiction that exists within the Insidion, chose the most precious thing to Sorey to be its vessel.

The Heart has chosen a sanctuary which he would and could never let anyone touch or hurt by any means.

It chose _him_ —that treasure he had crossed worlds to save just now…

And just as his soul was split along with his powers and abilities, the Insidion’s power was cleaved in half, diminishing its true destructive potential. So the potential of the Insidion to completely devour and destroy was weakened. But so was his own potential, his true power and ability as a Shepherd. The greater loss to him, however, was surrendering the heart of this potent evil to a vessel of its own choosing…

A certain precious water seraph was chosen as its vessel… or did he allow that soul to be sacrificed like everybody else’s?

Even though the decision was _never_ his to make, Sorey regretted it from the day it was made… and that is why he formed a pact with the Heart of the Malevolence. In exchange for the life of its chosen vessel, it must never return to this world. He allowed it to seal the memories of the seraph, allowed it to dwell in a mortal world distant in time and place from Glenwood, hoping that in doing so, the Insidion will never find it. It was the only way to guarantee the vessel’s untouchable existence, to preserve it forever. In that distant realm, the vessel could be safely hidden, guarded by the other half of him who would always be there to watch over the seraph.

And that half is no less than Sorey Sheppard, whose heart, will, and desires are all the secret longings, all the unspoken truths and promises the Shepherd himself has kept all these centuries.

Sorey Sheppard was his contradiction, the part of him he never knew existed, just as the Heart of the Malevolence is the contradiction within the Insidion, which exists in silent secrecy.

It would have been much safer for things to remain like that…

But the moment Sorey had laid his eyes on _him_ again, the Heart’s chosen vessel, those desires, those secret truths that he thought had been kept separate from him for two thousand years began to surface. He knew the risk but still, how could anyone expect him to stand aside when the most precious life he wanted to save was being threatened? He knew, however, that in allowing himself to establish a vital link with Sorey Sheppard, he had also allowed the possibility of the Insidion discovering its missing essence, its broken half. And that severed other half is the one single power that weakens the Malevolence here, that keeps it from completely destroying this world, this prison that hangs on the verge of doom.

Just then, a fluttery, silvery voice that sounded almost playful, child-like whispered in his ear, interrupting his thoughts. “I have more tricks you might enjoy my Lord… an unforgettable enchantment that could heal your sorrows… even if only for a moment.”

Sorey’s eyes turned to the voice with the coldest look of despair, only to widen with incredulous shock. Before him, Symonne’s form—taller and more mature and elegant now, having taken an adult human female form as her vessel—began to waver, flicker, then melt into a column of liquid fire suffused with thick, purple fumes that snaked and spiraled upwards. The display looked almost magical, breathtaking if Sorey was interested enough to appreciate anything at the moment. When the fumes receded and the form solidified with a fiery glow of bluish light, another form was in its place, a figure down on bended knee on the side of the pool, its delicate amethyst eyes brimming with some nameless yet vibrant, expectant emotion as they peered into Sorey’s face.

Sorey's breathing hitched. The pure, flawless, pristine beauty in front of him was stark naked, shamelessly exposed to him. And those lavender eyes that searched his own seem to know what he wanted to do, was offering something impossible to refuse...

Symonne was satisfied. She had conjured the exact same image of a certain water seraph in the Shepherd’s memories—the one and only image buried in those secret longings and fantasies that the Shepherd never allowed his seraph companion to suspect even in the slightest…

Sorey felt as if Time, itself, had stopped for him.

There was the face of that one beloved he had loved far too much for far too long...

The only jewel that could draw his eyes, pull all his senses toward it, his entire being...

The only treasure he would keep no matter the cost... even if the universe must weep...

Sorey closes his eyes as the figure behind the face eases one arm into the pool, letting cold, slender, teasing fingers wrap themselves around his manhood. With the other hand, Sorey’s chest was pressed tenderly, fingers circling the taut skin around the buds, rubbing them, soothing them, teasing them into erection. Satisfied with the moans that escaped Sorey’s lips, the figure gazed up at the pair of languid emerald eyes before flicking its tongue on the erect buds, taking each one in its mouth with rapid, sucking breaths. Sensing the immediate awakening deep between Sorey’s thighs, slowly, gently, the fingers once more folded themselves softly around the hardening, attentive arousal, guiding themselves up and down the enlarged shaft that throbbed and quivered shamelessly between his legs.

Lavender eyes floated in front of him, mesmerizing, teasing, full of candid playfulness that was rare to see in the seraph whose smile and laughter were all too brief and beautiful. While before Sorey would never respond to any urgent prodding and teasing from any touch or sensation given to him by a seraphel, now he finds his body relaxing into the caress, his urgent need beating, swelling in the pleasures of being touched and experienced this way by the one being he desired with everything he had.

The press of the finger was urgent, and it provoked shivers along his spine as it slid up and down, up and down his arousal, circling the tip as if to further tease its hardness to respond. As Sorey’s thighs began to tense, his breathing becoming more ragged, the tightening caress slipped up and down faster and faster, coaxing him to come, to find release, to spread his seed and be consumed by a pleasure so utterly complete, so fulfilling to the brim…

His manhood arched into the hand, as his mind dwelled on—and imagined—those lavender eyes, those sensuous lips, tongue, and mouth taking all of him, swallowing all of him into its eager warmth. He wanted his manhood to be savored and relished… to be wrapped in a thick, slick, wet embrace. As desperately pleading groans of pleasure escaped his lips, Sorey could only wonder how he could have kept his desires secret this long when the sensation is this overwhelming, this perfect…

He could feel louder moans rising from his throat, could feel the water lapping against his thighs as his violent desires trembled with every stroke, every pressure, every intimate caress…

He is coming for the first time… For the first time, he understood the feeling of hunger, of the need to devour the same forbidden fruit… He wanted to sink himself and melt into the body of this warmth enveloping his hardening manhood. He wanted to release his heat inside that flesh… wanted to feel that creamy, smooth softness wrap itself tightly around his aching, throbbing need. Sorey imagined the suppleness of that flawlessly pale, white skin rubbing against his rough, impatient manhood and immediately felt the urgency to penetrate his seraph’s deepest core…

Sorey imagined amethyst eyes misting, understanding his desire to be inside him, to fill him with his seed. He imagined his seraph’s thighs spreading wantonly, eagerly, to let him in—so he could ease all of him, his length, his trembling desire deep, deep inside of him. Sorey imagined what it felt to enter that soft, lean body again and again—to pierce the deepest cavern of his secrets with every swelling urge and command. He could imagine the look of pleasure in those beautiful eyes as he dominates that pure and perfect body arching toward him, surrendering to him completely like no other… begging to be filled with the thick, slick wetness of his seed…

Inside him… He wanted so much to be inside him in a purely physical way, to fill the soft, deep core of him with his everything…

He is definitely coming as loud, moaning groans he could no longer suppress escaped him shamelessly—throaty, starving, thirsty, ready to ravish and devour…

He is going to cry out…  _That_ name, once spoken here, will break the oath…

_Mikleo... I'm coming…_

Then he felt something cold press itself on his lips.

Sorey opened his eyes. Cold lips, a cold smile…

An even colder realization hits him.

This could never be the same seraph he loved in the mind and in the flesh… because the lips that belonged to him, the beauty that shimmered in his lavender eyes, his rare, soothing smile is warmer than the sun yet cooler than the soft patter of rain….

The one he loved was purer than the palest snow, than the clearest dew that falls after a cool spring rain. And that meant one thing: his seraph would never do this. They love each other far too much to let their selfish desires take over and corrupt those feelings.

Their love is pure and untainted. But it was love nevertheless. It was romantic nevertheless.

It was more real than real. Not consummated, yes, but hardly just imagined.

It was a love that grew between quiet gazes, silent stares, and breathless smiles. It was the love of an unspoken desire that contains a promise that could never be broken by faithlessness, by others’ affections no matter how strong.

By another man… or a woman.

An infinite love that never tasted a single direct kiss, never relished a single wanton, intimate caress… but which knew the depth of the deepest grief, the height of the highest hopes…

Sorey loved only Mikleo. And Mikleo would never compare to this cheap imitation, no matter how perfect the resemblance.

For Mikleo’s beauty is as deep and profound as his soul—not this external beauty that only attracts and seduces, that feels as cold and lifeless as the grave…

Mikleo is the unity of his entire being… And though the oath is now shattered, Sorey was certain that his will and conviction stays. Never has he seen things more clearly as he could right this moment, for now his goal is only this: to protect Mikleo with all of the Shepherd’s remaining power, his remaining spirit and resolve. Even if the pain of a thousand deaths must be endured to defeat the Insidion, Sorey would gladly put his life on the line if only to see his face again…

Maybe to touch and hold and kiss Mikleo for the first and the last time…

Because for him... for _all_ of him, body, mind, soul, and spirit... the first and the last would always be forever. 

 

 

**o)------------o)O(o------------(o**

 

 

  


	5. May I?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikleo is finally introduced to the rest of the gang. Edna gives some thought about their final days in Glenwood... and how this situation relates to Mikleo and the Insidion.  
> More important though, Sorey Sheppard finally gets to spend some time with Mikleo... alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay as it turns out this is a smut-fic, song-fic and whatever-fic that's just cheesy. I'm fangirling most of the time while writing this so don't expect anything decent or highly artistic... (when have I been capable of that anyway...kkk :D) I do hope you find something worthwhile here since I really enjoyed writing this one. But no need to force yourselves, okay? Need a barf bag? I know... too much cheesiness can be dangerous to your health... :D  
> Thanks again to those who read the previous chapter and left kudos. I hope you'd bear with this poor writer/obsessed fan (I'm still obsessing with the last episode, though of course the game will always be my first love). Thanks so much, I love you all... :D By the way, I included actual lines/text from the game. Most of the time I mix Arthurian lore with names and myths used by the original writers. It's interesting how much they borrowed elements from these materials... I'm blending some myself to make new names more in tune with the canon version (I'm an Arthurian legends fan), so I hope that's okay... (Oh, to digress, have you noticed Trading Yesterday sounds like Sorey? Sorry, wild imagination here!) THANKS SO MUCH AGAIN!
> 
> DISCLAIMER: The original story behind Tales of Zestiria and Tales of Zestiria the X belongs to Bandai-Namco and Ufotable respectively. Since the writer makes no profit from this labor of love and, in fact, struggles against shame and hopeless obsession every time she has to write an additional chapter for her self-pleasure and that of others like her, she respectfully makes a plea against any law suit. :D
> 
> Obsession has no shame, by the way. You've been warned. :D

**o)------------o)O(o------------(o**  

 

Mikleo had wanted to take a shower before leaving the hospital, feeling a little bit concerned about the fact that he had been unable to do so for the past five days. Not that he smelled or anything, as nurses must have given him regular sponge baths while he was in bed. But of course, he couldn't allow himself to be less conscious of his hygiene than now, especially when Sheppard couldn't help smelling so good even when he seemed to have spent some time practicing some shots--and that meant sweating a lot in the soccer practice uniform he was wearing now, even if it was a Saturday.

Five days… Mikleo couldn’t help feeling a little iffy about it as he turned on the water heater before finally rinsing off the shampoo and soap suds on him. Although showering really felt good, he couldn’t help but worry about all those things that he must have neglected during the past week. No doubt he’ll be knee-deep—maybe even neck-deep—in homework as soon as he gets home. Not to mention mid-terms week is just around the corner. As it is, he’s already way behind schedule with the festival preparations lagging even farther behind.

Sorey shifted a little from where he leaned against the wall by the window when Mikleo entered, obviously fresh from the shower and with a fresh change of clothes. Even though it seemed more natural to start a casual conversation, Sorey found his mind suddenly in knots, forcing him to look down at his feet even as he tried to keep Mikleo within his peripheral vision. But even if he only managed a quick glance and couldn’t make the slightest eye contact, he couldn’t help but notice that the crisp, white shirt Mikleo wore with simple, horizontal lines of aquamarine blue on the chest looked really good on him, complementing his unbelievably pale skin. And when Mikleo turned his back on him, obviously to towel the rest of his hair dry, he felt an irresistible urge to observe how Mikleo’s long legs showed nicely below the hem of the gray walking shorts he wore, which reached just a little past his shirt and covered only his upper thighs.

He had guessed that Mikleo was thin everywhere, but no matter how often he had seen those legs, he had a hard time keeping his gaze away. It was bad enough that Mikleo’s lithe, svelte figure was eye-catching without him having to be a girl…

And Sorey found it odd that he wasn’t even uncomfortable admitting that…

Letting his eyes linger on the silver strands of hair glistening along the fringes of Mikleo’s nape, Sorey couldn’t help but catch glimpses of Mikleo’s profile. He noticed how the wet bangs that clung to Mikleo’s cheeks did nothing more than emphasize the small delicate shape of his face and the large, almond lavender eyes that peeked from underneath them. Though he had seen Mikleo often in school—had followed his shadow literally—seeing Mikleo in the raw like this, looking so naturally clean and fresh, was so new to Sorey that all he could do was throw sidelong glances at him and do his best to slow down his breathing. It was even more difficult trying not to react to the scent of fresh pine, lavender and mint blending with the dewy, ambrosial fragrance of sandalwood and spring rain exuded by Mikleo’s creamy, translucently pale skin. 

To be honest, he found that fragrance more intoxicating than any of the expensive scents he had caught on his dates or the girls he had met in countless parties—so much so that even when he tried to look away, his eyes couldn’t help but follow Mikleo, carefully observing the way his slender wrists moved among the flowers and started to carefully pick and arrange them in a bouquet. Pinks and reds and whites surrounded his face as he quietly bunched them with a ribbon and wrapped them in a thin wax paper he found in a drawer.

Mikleo’s hair and eyes lingering over the tops of the blooms looked like a flower on its own as Sorey caught himself staring again.

Mikleo raised an eyebrow. “What? Something wrong? My mom loves flowers. I don’t want these to go to waste.”

Sorey looked sideways, trying not to look embarrassed. “Uh, nothing. Are you ready? Let me get your bags, you shouldn’t be carrying heavy stuff like these.”

Mikleo tried to grab the backpack on the bed but Sorey snatched it a second faster as he slung Mikleo’s tote bag on his right shoulder. Mikleo frowned. “Look, I’m _not_ a patient anymore all right? So stop being so attentive, I’m not gonna pass out and die any second.”

“Shut up, porcelain beauty. Right now, you look so pale I can almost see daylight through you. You need some pampering whether you like it or not, and that’s what you’re gonna get, nothing less.”

“Fine, but can you stop calling me porcelain beauty then? I swear if goosebumps can kill, you'd be the cheapest assassin for hire.”

Sorey laughed, feeling all his weariness drain away. He hadn't really had much sleep in the past five days and the heaviness was starting to set in. But that comment just made him forget all of that as waves of relief pushed through him, and a sudden urge to look into those lavender eyes made him feel just a little bit excited and nervous. 

Instead, he looked at Mikleo sideways and flashed him a wide smile. “All right, I get it.”

Mikleo mentally gawked but tried to look indifferent as Sorey swung the backpack onto his left shoulder with effortless ease while adjusting the weight of the tote bag on the other. He just realized that next to Sorey’s overwhelming physique, he’d certainly look like a sorry, wimpy damsel in distress--and it's not like it's _anyone's_ fault, he argued to himself. Mikleo winced at that absurd mental train of thought (where he practically defends himself and Sorey from his own accusations) and crossed his arms over his chest.

“One other thing… if you’re just showing off, let me tell you, I spent five years doing kendo and archery. It’s not like you’ve got a sensitive ballerina here who can’t carry a couple of bags… no offense intended of course.”

“No worries I’m no ballerina to be offended myself!” Sorey laughed, reaching for the door knob as he opened the door for Mikleo. “Of course, you can complain as much as you want, but that doesn’t change a thing. I’m in charge of you today so you’d just have to put up with me until you’re ready to throw up.”

“Thought Hitler’s dead. Dictator types everywhere…”

Sorey grinned at that, wondering how Mikleo could so easily make him smile. “Uh, by the way, I hope you don’t mind meeting some new faces. The gang has been wanting to meet you, and they seem pretty excited about it too. A little too excited maybe. But you don’t mind, do you?”

“Err… friends of yours?”

“Uh-huh.”

Mikleo followed him to the elevator and Sorey, just as before, stepped aside to let Mikleo pass, keeping his hand on the door rails, making sure Mikleo was inside before letting himself in. He pressed the button for the ground level. “Don’t worry, I asked them not to park the car in the basement. I get a little claustrophobic myself in dark, tight places like that.”

Sorey’s eyes were averted so Mikleo couldn’t see his expression, but something in the way he said that told him that it wasn’t the _only_ reason. Mikleo was definitely claustrophobic and hated dark places… but he never told his mom or anyone about it. Those were things he didn’t want people to be worrying about for his sake. Yet a nagging part of him felt guilty about Sorey’s concern, as if he was somehow part of it. Mikleo tried not to overthink it as the elevator doors slid open and Sorey once more kept his hand on the door rails until Mikleo had stepped out completely.

“Hopefully they’re not fans, are they?”

Sorey shook his head. “Nah, they work for me, but I hardly think of them as that. They’re all friends… they’re cool and fun to be with. But most of all, they’re really kind and sweet. Miss Lailah, Zaveid, Dezel… we’re like a family so it would be nice if you’d get to know them. I would’ve preferred driving you to the house myself but Gramps insisted on letting us use the limo, so…”

Mikleo felt something warm tug him firmly and saw Sorey’s hand latch onto his wrist, pulling him gently through glass doors that showed a soft landscape of trees and shrubbery. Once outside the building, Mikleo felt the cool, crisp breeze brush against him, messing up his hair a little as several wet strands whip across his cheeks and over his eyes.

They stood there for about five minutes just basking in the fresh, morning sunshine filtering through the canopy of evergreens.

When Sorey let go of his hand, it was only then that he realized that Sorey had been holding onto him the whole time. Was he getting into the habit of being too comfortable around him not to notice it sooner? Mikleo found himself wanting to catch a glimpse of Sorey’s face as he stared ahead of them, green eyes sharp, alert and brimming with reassuring confidence. Mikleo averted his gaze as soon as he felt his cheeks heat up, only to catch sight of something so arresting that he couldn’t help but gawk like a five-year-old on his first trip to the aquarium.

_G-gosh… it really IS a limo…_

Mikleo had to force himself not to stare too hard at the jaw-dropping sight of a sleek, black limousine that parked smoothly right in front of them. The door on the driver’s side opened and a man came out and leaned by the side of the vehicle with his black cap slightly tipped in front of his face. He was tall, dressed in full black tuxedo with a white tie that had a jewel-crusted, emerald-colored pin shaped like a cross on it, which Mikleo found peculiarly familiar.

The door on the opposite side opened next and a slightly taller, sort of heavy-muscled guy slid out and walked casually around the car to the chauffeur’s side. He would have looked just as formal if he did not casually sling his formal gray coat on the silky white shirt he wore, which was unbuttoned halfway, exposing the smooth, even tan on his brawny chest. Unlike his companion, who looked about the same age with the same platinum-dyed hair (well, it must have been artificially done for there were green hints around the tips) barely reaching his shoulders, Mr. Muscle guy had waist-length hair and looked more friendly, carefree, and laid-back, flashing Mikleo a peace-sign with two fingers while striking a pose for comic effect.

Then again, that suave pose could not have been for anyone else as a third door opened and a tall, slender woman who seemed to be in her early twenties came out and stood in front of him and Sorey. It didn’t take long for Mikleo to realize she was beautiful. She had a small, finely-chiseled face and smiling, clear, azure-blue eyes, thick waist-length, platinum-white hair with hints of pink crimson around the tips gathered in a high ponytail. On top of it was a tiny red-and-gold barrette shaped like a crown. Unlike the other two, she wore a combination of white and red layers of lace with a low neckline that barely hinted at a cleavage and a wide belt that hugged her svelte figure. Even her red high heels and gold, shell-like earrings and bracelets made her look even more elegant but no less sensual.

She greeted them both with a wide smile that went with her sparkling eyes. “So, you must be Mikleo, Sorey’s new tutor! Welcome!”

Mikleo didn’t know how to react. With her overwhelmingly sophisticated appeal, Mikleo couldn’t help feeling somewhat shabbily underdressed. But because the girlish voice and smile seemed genuinely friendly, he did not hesitate to reach out and shake the young woman’s hand, trying hard not to look too self-conscious. “Uh, thanks, nice to meet you too—uhh…”

“You can call me Lailah. I’m Sorey’s personal manager…”

“HUH???” Mikleo gave Sorey a withering what-else-have-you-got side glance only to be reminded that Sheppard hardly qualifies as ordinary. After all what kind of _ordinary_ sixteen-year-old goes around in a limo with escorts dressed like members of a spy network and a secretary who seemed to have just stepped out of the pages of a fashion brochure? Mikleo wouldn’t be surprised if Sorey had his own NASA rocket scientist helping him out with his physics project.

“Nothing less than amazing must be everyday ordinary for you…”

Sorey gave him one of his helpless grins. “Coming from you that almost makes me feel guilty, but to be honest, it’s not like I have a choice…”

“Sorry, my bad.” Mikleo remembered what his mom said. Don’t judge Sheppard so harshly. Social class assumptions can’t be as real as the people you meet in person.

Sorey looked a bit flustered. “Uh, don’t think about it. I’m not offended.”

“By the way, Mikleo, do you mind if I introduce you to those two over there?” Lailah asked, pressing her palms together excitedly. “The one with the cap is Dezel and he’s our very own chauffeur! He may look strict and scary most of the time but he’s certainly nice and dependable—well, uhh, just don’t expect him to do chit-chat that much, he kinda takes his job quite seriously. Too seriously maybe…”

“Uh, oh…” Mikleo hesitated. “Hi there, Dezel.”

To his surprise, the man tipped his cap wordlessly before averting his face.

“Uh, err, Dezel?” Sorey looked a little embarrassed.

“Sorry but can’t say ‘hi’ and let him be deceived by the kindness of strangers. And by that, I’m referring to myself.”

Sorey scratched his cheek at Mikleo. “I’m sure you’d get used to him in time. Uh, Lailah?”

“Oh, right, sorry, it's just so exciting to finally meet you, Mikleo, I can't help but..." Lailah stops herself as if some mental button just clicked inside her. "Oh my, my manners, I must be scaring you... sorry. Moving on, that guy over there is Zaveid. He’s—uh—he’s well… uh, he’s Zaveid, right, that’s about enough, Sorey, right?”

Mikleo jerked his head nervously when Zaveid stepped forward and shook a fist at her. “Hey! No fair! You even call that an intro? You could’ve mentioned my vital stats or maybe why cool ole hunk-a-charm Zaveid is such a lady killer bodyguard—you know _body-guard?_ I’m sure everyone gets why I need to show off my body a little now and then!"

"The point being?" Lailah looked prettily upset.

"Well, what better way to properly introduce a _bodyguard_ than to talk about his heavenly _body_ , right?”

Lailah leveled a cool gaze at him, arms akimbo. “Well, I know you’re gonna come out and say that anyway, no matter  _what_ I say! Besides, wouldn’t it be so unladylike of me to compliment a guy who can’t even wear his shirt like a proper, decent gentleman? But I’m glad I held myself back… It really saved me a lot of trouble!”

Mikleo sighed slowly, leaning toward Sorey to mutter something. “Are you sure they’re not married or recently divorced? ‘Cause watching them is kinda stressful, don’t you think?”

Sorey suppressed a giggle. The way Mikleo said that—and the expression on his face—it was funny and charming in its own way.  

Lailah turned to Mikleo, obviously ignoring Zaveid’s steam. “I hope you don’t mind, but Edna’s told me lots of things about you—that’s why I couldn’t wait to meet you when I heard you’re going to be Sorey’s tutor! Although, to be honest,” she looks up worriedly, “... there _is_ something that bothers me just one bit, just a teeny, tiny, weeny, little bit. I mean, is it true that—”

She stepped forward and whispered something in Mikleo’s right ear. Sorey gave them a hard, curious stare and panicked when Mikleo blushed a deep, beet red.

“So, is it really, really true, Mikleo?”

Sorey was staring at Mikleo hard, his face all nervous and concerned. “W-what—what did she tell you? Lailah?!”

“Relax Sorey, buddy,” Zaveid hooked an arm around Mikleo’s narrow shoulders, making him bristle at the unexpected contact. “I’m sure Lailah’s just checking out the sweet little angel we got right here.”

“Uhh, Zaveid?” Sorey tapped Zaveid’s arm. Chuckling, he let go of Mikleo only to punch him lightly on the shoulder instead.  

Lailah looked away shyly. “Uh, sorry, I didn’t mean to get Sorey upset, oh my! Maybe it _is_ too personal to ask such things, but it’s just oh-so-rare to find male teenagers these days who could resist looking at a bunch of naked girly pictures, so I got curious!”

“Yah mean PORN, don’tcha?” Zaveid grinned at Mikleo like a maniac, emphasizing that embarrassing word to the point of making everyone cringe. “Aww, don’t be such a baby! I know how sweet it is to be innocent and all but c’mon, it’s no crime to have some harmless, horny fantasies once in a while! I actually kinda miss those glorious, unholy days of puberty!”

“Puberty, right,” Mikleo muttered, ears steaming. “Sounds like someone’s enjoying it too much and plans on never leaving it.”

“Zaveid!” Lailah hit his chest with her fan. “Stop being such a bad influence!”

“Hey, the way you were acting I thought you were worried sick the kid ain’t normal! I mean, dissing the unholy grail of manhood is practically a _crime_ against humanity—after all, ain’t the joys and pain of puberty man’s common, secret bond?”  

“Well, hurray for that…” Mikleo sighed, all the while keeping his face averted. Try as he might, he couldn’t help looking flustered with those things about him so out in the open like that. Gods, he can’t even imagine himself joking about adolescent sexuality in front of his mom! But, somehow, it also felt awfully weird that he felt less embarrassed and sensitive than he thought he would be in the face of all that teasing—to think that about five minutes ago, all these people were complete strangers to him!

Beside him Sorey was smiling awkwardly, cheeks flushed slightly. “Uh, I guess I should be sorry for overreacting, I mean knowing Edna, things could’ve been worse. She’s been a family friend for as long as I can remember and I know how she can be a little _too_ blunt about other people’s personal stuff… even if it’s just for fun.”

“Fun at my expense, no doubt,” Mikleo sighed. “No secret is ever safe with her. Or should I say no _one_ is ever safe with her. Discreet doesn’t seem to exist in her vocabulary.”

Zaveid bumped his shoulder. “Aww, real men hate discreet, we want it straight and honest! And that’s why fatal, feline feminists are just _sooo_ hot! I mean, admit it, don't you agree Edna’s _razor_ -sharp sarcasm is the ultimate secret to her killing charms?"

"If love is a torture, I bet," Mikleo muttered grudgingly.

"C'mon, I'm sure any other guy would find those _cutting_ comments of hers really cute!"

Sorey grinned. “Zaveid, I'm a guy and I don't know where your assumptions are coming from."

"From the heart, where else? Need you ask?"

"No one asked so if you don’t mind, could you shut up for a sec? My ears are bleeding.”

It was Dezel. Mikleo didn’t know exactly where he was until he spoke, but even when he stood and spoke from some distance, Mikleo felt something in the air vibrate with a slight undercurrent of energy that made his skin crawl with goosebumps. The aura Dezel exudes is a little too eerie for him to say the least.

“Oh c’mon, it’s been practically ages since we had something like this so let’s enjoy the moment while we still can!”

“What’s he talking about?” Mikleo turned to Sorey, half-whispering.

“Beats me. Zaveid’s always been like this. Sort of.”

“I mean,” Zaveid goes on, “has it ever crossed your minds that just maybe, Edna finds Mikboy interesting enough to play with? With an angelic face like that, who wouldn’t fall for our little choir boy right here—”

Mikleo back-stepped and accidentally brushed against Sorey as Zaveid peered into his face, ready to swing an arm around him again.

Dezel coughed. “Choir boy huh? If singing could keep all sleeping demons from waking up, we’d have it easy this time around…”

“D-demons?” Sorey asked, one hand on Mikleo’s shoulder that was leaning against his. The thought of hellions made him suddenly jumpy and protective.

“And what do you mean by ‘this time around’?” Mikleo sounded more intrigued than confused.

Lailah’s brow shot up as if in warning. “Dezel! Zaveid! Some caution, please!”

Sorey sighed. “Lailah, don’t tell me this is another one of those things you _really_ can’t talk about?”

“Oh my, aren’t the skies so perfectly blue today?”

Mikleo gave Sorey a somewhat quizzical stare. “Boy, could things get any weirder than this? Of course, as you said, nothing beats Edna’s teasing. I mean, yeah, she’s nice and rather cute but being with her feels like skydiving with a parachute made of Kleenex.”

Zaveid laughed out loud. “Whoa, so what does it feel, Mikboy, to fall for someone like Edna? Were you able to pick yourself up in one piece?”

“I don’t know about that,” Mikleo frowned. “'Cause the only thing I fall for were her sarcastic jokes that could pierce an ego like a bullet through rice paper.”

Zaveid held his stomach, laughing hard at that. Then catching Sorey’s worried look, he straightened himself up and grinned. “Maybe Sorey here has a better idea of what falling means, huh, our good ole _fallen Sheppard_ if I may say so without getting Lailah so prettily upset one more time?”

“Look here, Zaveid,” Lailah simpered, raising her fan. “If a balloon has a brain, you’d be the biggest airhead of them all, get it? Aiiirr-head?”

Dezel shook his head and looked away. “Don’t ask me what I think of _that_.”

“Uh, well, before things get out of hand,” Lailah crooned excitedly, as if a change of topic was in order, “I think Sorey has already made plans for the day, so may I ask where our first stop might be? You haven’t had breakfast yet have you?”

Sorey grinned. “So, Mikleo, what would it be?”

Mikleo looked at him wide-eyed. “Eeeh? Why do I get to decide?”

“Just tell me what’s on your mind, all right?” Sorey offered. “You don’t have to worry about anything else.”

Mikleo looked at Lailah. “Is he always like this?”

Lailah looked sideways shyly but not before throwing Mikleo a furtive glance. “Only with a certain someone, I guess.”

Mikleo didn’t have time to think about that though as Sorey held the car door open for him. “So, are we ready or what? I’m starving and I hope you are too, Mikleo! But if you can’t think of anything you like just yet, would _Pancake Sweets_ do? I’ve asked them to open a little early today just for us!”

“W-what?” Mikleo found his brow twitching at that. _Pancake Sweets_ is an elegant café that’s a little on the expensive side so he never had the luxury to try it—though he had been saving on his allowance for two months so he could ask his mom to try it out on her birthday. “Don’t tell me you _own_ the place?”

Sorey just gave him a doofus grin.

Mikleo sighed as he slid onto the seat and Sorey sat next to him. “Is there anything that’s _not_ on your personal map at all?”

“Err… _you_? Kidding, kidding!” Sorey didn’t know how _that_ thought slip right past him so naturally, as Mikleo gave him an awkward stare.

“Well, I love pancakes. Anything sweet is fine with me. How about you, Mikleo?"

Mikleo could only stare. Sorey’s smile made him look no different from a jubilant five-year-old as he casually slid an arm on the head cushion past Mikleo’s shoulders and leaned back comfortably, letting his eyes drift toward the flustered face next to him as if to tease.

Mikleo looked away self-consciously as his neck started feeling hot again, though Sorey’s arm was hardly touching it. “Sweet is good.”

“I kinda guessed you’d say something like that.”

 

**o-----)o(-----o**

 

Sheppard mansion was unbelievably huge. It’s not something one can even call a house. It looked like a modern castle sitting among rolling greens surrounded by stone walls that encircled something as vast as an acre-wide meadow ranch with an impressive rock garden, a maze courtyard with finely sculptured fountains, and a giant pool. A stable for horses seemed to be at the farther side of the estate, which Sorey showed Mikleo before asking if they could take a break and rest indoors while some refreshments were being prepared for them.

The chef, in a formal white uniform and apron, served their pizza and salad on a silver tray, complete with raspberry milk shakes in tall glasses and a pitcher of cold lemonade and water.

“These are _just_ refreshments?”

Sorey smiled. “Uh-huh. I actually made the pizza myself. Chef Levreau helped me out of course, but you can say I hand-picked some of the ingredients myself and put them together! As for the crust, well, I didn’t leave the kitchen until Chef agreed to teach me how to whip up one last night! So you could say that pizza’s got my personal touch in every way!”

Mikleo almost choked at the giddy way Sorey said that. It sounded so amazingly childish but…

He couldn’t help staring. Sorey Sheppard the playboy doesn’t seem to exist at all when he’s like this, all emerald eyes glowing happily like those of a child who just got his first Christmas present. From Santa.

Right. Sorey would look adorable in a Christmas costume, wouldn’t he?

Mikleo relished the thought. Imagining Sorey decked in red overalls, with a red pointed hat with reindeer horns and a mistletoe sitting lopsidedly on his chestnut brown head, a sack of Christmas presents held over one shoulder, and a giant rainbow candy cane held in one hand was just… cute. Too cute in fact that Sorey would pass for a kissable mascot.

 _Ki-kissable?_ Mikleo shook his head. Where did that come from?

He looked at Sorey who seemed to be waiting for him to take a bite. The moment they stepped indoors, Sorey excused himself, saying he needed to take a shower after sweating so much. Right now, he looks really fresh and smells great in the usual outdoorsy, musky, minty scent that goes well with his boyish, masculine looks. Mikleo also couldn’t help but notice how Sorey seemed good at blending both formal and casual in the way he tucked his white, long-sleeved, silk shirt with a buttoned, closed collar loosely in his dark brown pants. The smooth fabric did not completely hide his lean, evenly-toned body even though it barely showed any skin up until his upper neck and wrists. Embarrassing as it is to admit, Sorey looked quite the dashing, fairytale prince straight out of the pages of a book, especially with that slightly disheveled swamp of brown hair complementing his fiery, green eyes. In the back of his mind, Mikleo realized that Sorey Sheppard was never really self-conscious when it comes to fashion or elegance but, rather, seemed relaxed and at home in his own skin.

A natural in every way.

“C’mon Mikleo, if you let your pizza cool too much, I might just grab it from under your nose and eat it myself! Try it! I’m sure you’ll like it!”

Mikleo smiled, taking a mouthful of the mouth-watering slice of pizza with its spicy, cheesy aroma which only made his stomach grumble even more impatiently. It wasn’t easy chewing food with someone like Sorey ogling you across the table, but the pizza was so good Mikleo knew right away that savoring one bite wasn’t enough. The vegetables were evenly cooked and blended with the flavors of different cheeses and spices. It was the best he had tasted so far, to be honest.

“So?”

Mikleo couldn’t help but spurt a bubble of laughter as Sorey peered into his face with a somewhat over-excited and worried look. “It’s perfect, no worries, all right?”

Sorey breathed a sigh of relief. “Geez, that was the first time you praised me in a long while, you know.”

Mikleo looked confused. “Uh, Sorey, need I remind you that we’ve just met? I mean, the first time we went out I collapsed because of severe anemia—though I swear I was feeling perfectly fine before that—and like usual, I had no memories of what happened right after. When I woke up I was at the hospital and five days had passed and you came to pick me up. So this is just our second day getting to know each other.”

Sorey looked down. He remembered Gramps warning him about not pushing it. He assured him that Mikleo’s memories will return in time… During Mikleo’s confinement, Gramps had confided several things to Sorey—things Sorey had never thought he or anybody else around him knew for so long. He suspected there was more to it of course—finer details that seemed even more urgent. But Gramps could not be persuaded to confirm anything other than the existence of hellions and creatures that seemed far more real than any other superstitious nonsense Sorey had heard or seen in games and popular fiction. About the young man in a white cape who wouldn’t reveal his true identity, Gramps was frighteningly tight-lipped about it even when Sorey cried and shouted and used vague threats on him. Nothing frustrated him more than the fact that Mikleo succumbed to a coma after that vicious attack—and that such circumstances could repeat themselves, and that there was no assurance those hellions could be stopped. It was obvious that special sensing abilities were needed to perceive them—and why he, of all people, had those abilities was still unclear...

It was even more depressing to think of the possibility that his mom knew about these things… those taboos regarding the existence of another world that was somehow connected to his soul, connected to their family line and which, for many generations, had become guarded secrets—viciously dangerous things buried deep down, kept hidden from the outside world. Gramps told him that everything will be revealed in time—until he and Mikleo were ready to understand and believe...

But is he to stand aside and twiddle his thumbs waiting for yet another threat to Mikleo’s safety and well-being? He couldn’t help but think that somehow, Mikleo’s memory loss, all the nasty accidents and happenings that have come his way were all related to those monsters, those so-called hellions that seek him out for a reason no one would bother to explain.

And that was the thought that cut Sorey deeply. What would happen if Mikleo were to be attacked again by such bizarre creatures which only he could see and touch? Would he be enough to fight them off, to keep their bloody hands and claws off Mikleo next time?

He looked at Mikleo. So strong yet so fragile… like a sliver of ice that, by all appearances, seemed as hard and brilliant as diamond but which could shatter so easily like a frail piece of broken glass… could melt so easily like the faint flickers of snow on the palm of a child’s hand…

“Are you all right? Thought you said you were so hungry you could eat my share.”

Sorey looked as if he had just been roused from a daydream. “Uh, you’re saying?”

Mikleo sighed. “Never mind. I must be boring you to tears.”

“No way!” Sorey denied a little too loudly. “Uh, by the way, is there anything else you like?”

“Such as?”

Sorey scrunched up his face. “What about music? Do you prefer pop? Jazz? Classical? Though I must say, you look like the classics-lover type of person.”

Mikleo huffed. “And I thought I should be guilty of my stereotypical views!”

Sorey’s face lights up. “So what is it, Mikleo? Hard-rock, rock-ballad, alternative-rock, sentimental-rock that sort of thing?”

“Do I live _under a rock_? Of course I listen to those kinds of music from time to time, sheesh, Sheppard!”

Sorey just stared at him long and hard, as if a thought was just forming in his mind and he needed something to focus on, to latch on, so he could concentrate.

“Sorey, are you trying to burn holes through my soul?”

The ace athlete almost giggled at that. “My bad, but as soon as you’re done I’ll tell you. Just promise me you’d be nice enough to cut me some slack, all right? ‘Cause it might be a little rough, but you’d have the privilege of being the first to hear it.”

Mikleo had no idea what it was all about, but as he munched the last of the pizza and finished his raspberry shake, he couldn’t help but notice Sorey’s sidelong glances, which have that same doofus, over-excited glimmer that made his emerald eyes just a little bit scary to watch.

Mikleo suddenly wished he hadn’t seen this side of Sorey Sheppard—because the last thing he wanted was to let someone distract him a little too much. And distractions are one of those things he could never afford.

 

**o-----)o(-----o**

 

  _How can I forget you?_

_The memories come and go_

_You’re all I’ve ever wanted_

_You’re all I’ve ever known_

_Can I be happy living with your ghost?_

_The pictures tell a story_

_I took them off the wall_

_It’s hard enough to get through_

_I still can feel the fall_

_Do you even think of me at all?_

 

“So what do you think?” Sorey spoke in the microphone, putting down the head phones as he beamed yet another doofus smile at Mikleo who was standing on the other side of the glass panel of the recording studio.

It was bad. Not that Sorey’s singing was bad. In fact, his voice was really… sweet. It was soothing, caressing, the kind of voice that sets you at ease and makes you feel you’re being serenaded by an angel. But even if those impressions may sound great to Sorey, Mikleo didn’t have the nerve to say them out loud. In fact, right now, his mind seems to be a tight knot that kept his thoughts in a tangle as his heart raced and his cheeks flushed feverishly. That feeling inside him was bad and it couldn’t get any worse, as his thoughts raced to that night when Sorey had him read that poem. For some reason he could sense that there was something Sorey Sheppard had been trying to tell him. But whatever it was almost always seemed to evade him like a mystery or a puzzle that’s not meant to be solved. This time, Mikleo was having the same thoughts and he couldn’t help hating himself for it. Was it becoming a habit on his part to associate everything Sorey did with a fantastical notion that he, Mikleo, was the object of Sorey’s attentions, someone he’d waste precious time singing ballads or writing sentimental romantic verses to? Mikleo shook his head and winced. It wasn’t like Sorey Sheppard was singing _to him_ —no, that would be thinking like a hopeless fanboy. And yet, and yet…

Hearing him sing like that, sing with such warmth and gentleness, Mikleo thought he wouldn’t mind at all if Sorey indeed was singing to him.

Even if they’re both guys… and the serenade sounded like something a girl would fall head over heels for. Definitely.

Across him, Sorey looked obviously panicked.

“Gods, Mikleo, was it  _that_ bad? Come on, say something, you’re making me nervous!”

“Uh,” Mikleo struggled. “Didn’t know you have a recording studio in your _own_ backyard.”

All right, that was way out of topic but there was nothing else he could say that might flush out the steam on his hot, flushed, face.

Sorey smiled, lifting his eyes from the guitar, and suddenly those emerald pools reminded Mikleo of many quiet summers and warm sunshine. “Oh, well… I guess this makes it easier for me to record music even when I’m busy. I do have to go to school too you know, but to be honest—I mean, I’m not trying to brag or anything—the whole thing isn’t really that complicated. Most people don’t even need companies to help them produce music these days—though I still have album releases and all that which someone else manages for me. But it’s pretty much convenient to have the studio right here so I can just step in whenever I have time to record some songs or even when I just feel like singing or practicing my guitar. Of course there are times when I need help with the lyrics if I’m singing an original, but if it’s a cover, all I need to do is get the right tune in and adapt it to my style. And like most people, I prefer the guitar 'cause it blends with almost everything. Besides, having a lot of sounds in the background—I find that distracting. It makes it harder for me to pick out the emotions that go with the words of the song…”

Sorey pauses and looks up as if in deep thought. “I don’t know if this sounds strange but, I feel like each word has a grammar of its own, a whole music to it… so I try to be careful in choosing what mood goes with each thought that comes to mind when I listen to the words I sing. I guess you can say I like listening to my own mind and singing with my own heart.”

Mikleo raised an eyebrow at that. He knew Sorey to be an excellent athlete, a charming, heartthrob model who could squeeze squeals from even the most apathetic female nerd out there but… having the sensitivity to explain things some people might take for granted, and to put those thoughts into words without sounding conceited or pretentiously cool... It was certainly _not_ what he expected of the young celebrity who, like any other, must be regarded by fans as nothing more than a dazzling star to be admired from a distance. Right now, Mikleo can only wonder if behind all that superficial sparkle and luster is a real gem with a brilliance that speaks of someone who’s got the smarts and the brains to be treated more seriously... not just imagined or fantasized.

Because fantasies, no matter how beautiful or radiantly glorious, are nothing more than whims that dissolve so easily in the face of even the ugliest realities or the most sordid of truths. And Sorey Sheppard doesn't seem to be the type who deserves to be set aside for anything or anyone.

Not the kind who would break or tear under any pressure, real or otherwise.  

“Err, Mikleo?”

“Uh, sorry, I was just thinking how you explained that far better than I hoped you would… which is pretty much amazing in itself…”

Sorey laughed a little. Even when giving compliments, Mikleo seemed a little stingy and evasive—but he’s nevertheless sincere. Being in the limelight since he was eight, Sorey was used to being pampered by fulsome flatteries that seem to just want to get the better side of him. Of course that doesn’t mean he’s humble at all. There are times when such praises feel good too.

“Say, would you like to hear the rest of it? The song’s called ‘Only You’ and it’s by Mathew Perryman Jones. I heard from Gramps that mom used to like listening to his songs when she was my age… and it was really good too. I mean…” Sorey scratched his cheek with an index finger, averting his gaze. “I can really relate to what it’s about… like it expresses what I’d be too shy to tell anyone, no matter how I like hi—I mean, that person—uhh, sort of…”

Mikleo blinked back awkwardly, wondering why his mind kept repeating those same words in his head—knowing that the song was meant to serenade fans, not him. But even that constant reminder is beginning to sound like a conceited denial. Mikleo looked down at his feet. Is there a way to yank this awkward feeling out of his chest once and for all so he can act normal in front of Sheppard? He prefers things to be normal—emotionless, poker-face normal—which is less worrying than having this shy, embarrassed, I-can’t-breathe-properly-I-think-I’m-drowning kind of mental disposition whenever Sheppard as much as looks his way.

“Uh, Mikleo, are you sure you’re okay?” Sorey thought there was something odd about Mikleo being intermittently quiet, almost as if he’s got too many things on his mind or he’s bothered by something he’s not telling.

“Huh? W-what do you mean?”

Sorey scrunched up his face. “I mean, you don’t have to force yourself or anything. If you’re not feeling well, just tell me and I’ll show you to the guest room so you can lie down for a bit…”

Sorey’s voice was thick with concern and Mikleo wondered why it was making his heart beat so fast it seemed like he had been running a mile.

“Hey, are you thinking I'm some hopeless romantic who's gonna wilt just because of a song?” Mikleo found himself making another one of his sarcastic jokes. Even though it was far from what he really wanted to say, it put him at ease and made him breathe somewhat more easily. The last thing he wanted was to act like some weird fan dying for scraps of affection—not that Sheppard might or could be _that_ insincere. In fact...

Irony of ironies. Sorey Sheppard, with his overbearingly glittery, sparkly universe is probably one of the most sincere people he’s met. Maybe his mom and Edna do have a point—Sorey is definitely more than meets the eye.

“Mikleo, if there’s anything I should know, just tell me, anything you feel at all… I promised your mom and Gramps I’d be taking really good care of you…”

To be honest, if there was anything that could make Mikleo feel guilty, it was the thought that someone was worrying about him like this. He shook his head.

“I thought you’re gonna sing the rest of the song, but in case you’re not up to it, that’s just fine. I mean, this song must be a tough cookie for even someone like Sorey Sheppard…”

“Hey, no fair!” Sorey caught the taunt and clenched a fist at him. “I can sing it like a pro. Just listen, all right?”

Mikleo looked sideways and smiled. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.”

Sheppard smiled to himself. That light banter from Mikleo just made him feel at ease again. He knew it must be deliberate on Mikleo’s part. After all, from what he learned from Mrs. Rulay and Edna, he’s the type of person who’d hate people worrying and getting distracted by him. Grinning to himself, Sorey sat down and set his guitar gently on his thigh. Then with his other hand, he pulled the microphone a little closer before finally putting on his headphones.

The melodies floated in the air softly, filling him with a flutter of feelings that felt like butterfly wings in the pit of his stomach. He was nervous having Mikleo listen to him just a few feet away, but it was an excited, ecstatic sort of nervousness that made him want to soar, that made him feel he could just take off from the precipice of the highest cliff and spread his wings and fly.

The strings of the guitar seemed just as taut as the tension in his heart. But Sorey liked that feeling. He hummed the first few notes to the chorus, getting the feel of the song’s main theme.  

 

_Oh I want you… only you…_

_I want you… only you…_

_I can start it over_

_And find somebody new_

_A beautiful distraction_

_Just a hand to hold on to_

_But if you ask me_

_Would that love be true?_

_No, I want you… only you…_

_I want you… only you…_

 

_I wanna taste you again_

_Like a secret or a sin_

_Breathin’ out, breathin’ in_

_There’s no one else for me_

_But you… only you_

_And I want you… only you…_

_Hmm… I want you… only you…_

 

Sorey opened his eyes and gazed back at Mikleo as the last notes drifted from the strings of his guitar. The lingering feelings from the song felt like soft feathers torn from a pair of wings skimming the fringes of an open sea. For the first time in his life, Sorey felt just that… For the first time, he felt free as a bird, as a spirit afloat on a sea of clouds, basking in the warmest sunshine and the bluest skies...

And with those thoughts, Sorey found his eyes lingering on Mikleo’s small, heart-shaped face, which seemed to be quietly pondering the music he had just heard. _He’s so beautiful._ Just like that, absorbed in his thoughts, pale lips curled in that same serene way… 

He gazed at Mikleo with a breathless smile. _Too beautiful._ If only there were words beautiful enough to paint him in a song, he wouldn't mind singing them... even if only in his mind.

Mikleo looked down, cheeks flushed pink as he suddenly thought of something. “Uh, Sorey, I’m just wondering… if it’s not too much…”

Mikleo’s voice coming through the microphone of his headset woke Sorey from those reveries with a start. He realized that he couldn’t help staring at Mikleo, couldn’t help thinking how lucky he would be to be able to watch that same face quietly like this, to remember this moment for as long as he’s able, for as long as he has a mind, a beating heart.

Nah, how dopey can he get, letting the song sweep him to his feet and dig up all his emotions just like that! Sorey tried to clear his head as Mikleo flicked a look at him then averted his gaze, looking down and blinking several times as if measuring his own thoughts.

And Sorey found that endearing. Somehow, someday, he wished he could read Mikleo’s thoughts and understand everything about him without needing words between them.

Sorey clears his throat in the microphone and Mikleo jerks his head up. Sorey flashes him a peace sign. “Err… just tell me what it is, Mikleo. There’s no reason to hold back or anything, I won’t bite, c’mon!”

“Uh, well,” Mikleo hesitated, adjusting the volume of the internal speaker of his headset, blaming himself for making Sorey a little jumpy when he spoke a while ago. “You see Edna and I—I mean, the whole council already voted on it so it can’t be helped—we’re putting up a play for the festival and..."

Mikleo wondered at the sudden, awkward feel of discussing the topic but the teasing half-smile from Sorey seemed to draw him out. "And...?"

"Uhh, we’re wondering how it might be more interesting if we put some modern twist somewhere—nothing too fashionable ‘cause I hate changing the original too much, like making internal adjustments with the characters and the dialogue so…”

Sorey laughed a little. “See, you’re the classic type. Stick to the fundamentals—that kind of thing.”

Mikleo lifted his chin at that. “Shut up.”

Sorey giggled a little. “So what changes do you have in mind that I can help with?”

“Uh,” Mikleo looked up thoughtfully. “I thought maybe adding music that could relate to a younger audience would be tolerable… I mean, yeah, maybe you’re right, I love classical way too much, but even _you_ must know that it’s not something teenagers would die for these days. Hardly anyone thinks of Shakespeare when they think of entertainment.”

“No kidding, is it gonna be Romeo and Juliet?” Sorey’s eyes twinkled knowingly.

Mikleo’s face fell. “Why does everyone have the exact same thing in mind when it’s Shakespeare?”

“Sorry, but the idea of true love between star-crossed lovers never gets old, no matter how cheesy it gets!”

“Cheesy, right,” Mikleo exhaled. “Adaptations can be all sorts of things these days. The worst one was having Romeo as a rock star and Juliet a messed up ballerina with a serious case of anorexia.”

Sorey laughed out loud. He definitely knows which adaptation that is. He loves Shakespeare’s works himself—but it’s something he’ll never admit to anyone except Mikleo, maybe.

“Well, how about re-living the Elizabethan stage then? I think a classic approach would maintain some traditional conventions, that sort of thing, right?”

Mikleo was amazed. Sorey seems to know a lot about the topic—enough to banter with him. “Which convention in particular, if I may ask?”

“Stage actors used to be all men. And that meant having male actors play women’s parts as well.”

Mikleo stiffened at that. Sorey Sheppard was most definitely right. But it wasn’t something he was ready to agree or debate with.

“F-fine, I understand that. But I don’t know how we can use that idea right now…” Mikleo was unsure why he suddenly felt flustered. The thought of being on-stage with guys, kissing guys for those kissing parts and—and—wait, hold on, kissing guys? Whoever said there has to be anything like that in a high school festival play that doesn’t even have a professional director to begin with? He cleared his throat and tried to look indifferent about the whole thing.

“So… do you have any song that might fit the theme? It should be something relatively simple, something easy enough for an amateur to perform on stage. We’ll have the auditions soon and I was thinking of using it to pick the actors who’d play the parts of Romeo and Juliet.”

Sorey’s heart suddenly raced. It seems like this is the perfect time to let Mikleo hear it—that single he has just recorded as a promotional for a movie that’s coming out next month. A lot of his fans had requested it, but of course, that's not the only reason he wanted to sing it. He wondered though if it would have the same appeal to Mikleo…

And of course it’s a cheesy, romantic kind of song—but it’s just perfect for the role of a hopelessly-in-love Romeo serenading his fair Juliet…

He adjusted the microphone. “Is it all right if I sing it acapella?”

Mikleo smiled. “Perfect. I’m thinking of the same thing. A song that hardly needs elaborate accompaniment.”

“All right then. Just one favor to ask.”

Mikleo had never seen Sorey look so eager and determined that he couldn’t help being just a little curious and nervous. “Anything in exchange, of course.”

Sorey’s heart was soaring. “Can you listen to my interpretation as honestly as you can? Tell me what the song makes you feel, if it reaches into your heart or soul—I mean if it _ever_ does that. This sounds awkward but… I just wanna know if I sang it the way I’ve always wanted to."

Mikleo felt strange about the way Sorey put it, but who was he to question it? It was a small favor compared with what he was asking of the celebrity.

“If that’s all, I’ll listen with all my heart. Seriously. I can tell this one is pretty special.”

Sorey averted his gaze with a flushed face. “Uh, yeah, you can say that. By the way, this one is called ‘May I’ and it's an original by _Trading Yesterday._ It’s a band that I kinda like because they have this melody that’s just soothing and not over-sentimental but romantic in a classy, conservative way. Doing a revival of their best songs actually makes me proud—though can’t say I deserve to be the one to sing them.” Sorey blushes and looks down as he adjusts his guitar and takes his seat while pulling the microphone to him. “Anyway, you can imagine Romeo singing something like this to Juliet in that balcony scene, which is the perfect scene for romance, wouldn’t you agree?”

Mikleo blinked. “I agree. Those balcony scenes are a classic give-a-way. You see them and nobody needs to tell you what’s going on.”

“It’s just way too popular for anyone to miss, I guess! Bet a lot of girls in the audience would be _sooo_ into that scene. Aside from his singing, have you any other preferences for the part of Romeo?”

“Got any suggestions?”

Sorey looked down. “Nah, you guys should decide that. I’m no critic. Even my idea of Juliet is not-so-conventional so…” Sorey suddenly blushed. “Anyway, here’s the song.”

Mikleo held his breath as Sorey hummed the first melodies, his voice as soft, as gentle and serene as feathers flitting and floating away under a cool, summer blue sky.

 

_And there you stand opened heart, opened doors_

_Full of life with the world that’s wanting more_

_But I can see where the lights start to fade_

_The day is done and your smile has gone away_

_Let me raise you up_

_Let me be your love_

_May I hold you?_

_As you fall to sleep_

_When the world is closing in_

_And you can’t breathe_

_May I love you?_

_May I be your shield?_

_When no one can be found_

_May I lay you down…_

_All I want is to keep you safe from the cold_

_To give you all that your heart needs the most_

 

_All that has made me_

_Is all worth trading_

_Just to have one moment with you_

_So I will let go of all that I know_

_Knowing that you’re here with me_

**_For your love is changing me…_ **

_May I love you?_

_May I be your shield?_

_When no one can be found_

_May I lay you down…_

_How can I forget you?_

_The memories come and go_

_You’re all I’ve ever wanted_

_You’re all I’ve ever known..._

Mikleo was amazed and Sorey could clearly see that in the widened lavender eyes that stared back at him through the glass.

“That—that last part…”

Sorey laughed at Mikleo’s incredulous expression. “Right, I’m glad you noticed it’s from that other song. You call that a mashup—like when you squeeze two different songs together. It’s actually kinda tricky, like the rhythm should flow smoothly from one song to the next.”

“So you mean you can do that too—uh, sorry, I’m rather slow and behind when it comes to pop culture.”

“Nah, that’s okay, but since you asked, it’s really up to the interpreter to arrange the songs and to find the right blend that would make the combination nice enough. You can tell I really like that first song… To be honest, I want it to be the first special song I’d record for someone someday… but it’s a little _too_ explicit, so I guess you’d have to stick with the second one! I don’t want you guys to get censored or anything…” Sorey was blushing hard and Mikleo felt awkward returning it. They must look like two stupid, geeky, romantic nerds now…

But Mikleo was glad he asked for Sorey’s help. He couldn’t help smiling at him more honestly, to show him how much he’s appreciated. Right now, Sorey looked really geeky blushing like hell because of a love song.

 _It's just a love song, sheesh why am I getting worked up over it?_ Mikleo looked down, wondering why he couldn’t help feeling uneasy and excited. He gave himself a mental punch.

Sorey was grinning his ludicrously cute grin as usual. Mikleo cleared his throat, trying to compose himself.

“You know, for what it’s worth, Sorey, that wasn’t bad at all… I mean, actually, you really sang that well. I’m not even sure if any amateur out there can do it justice, you’re pretty much a tough act to follow…”

Sorey stared dumbstruck. “R-really?”

“I guess Edna and I would have to settle with someone who could warble a song decently at least—because I don’t think anyone can meet our standards if we use you as a model for singing a piece like that… I mean…” Mikleo lifted his face in deep thought. “Your voice has that soulful pitch to it… like you mean every sound, every syllable… and like it would be the saddest thing in the world if the person listening to you didn’t get what your heart was trying to say… beyond what those words actually say…”

Sorey’s breathing hitched. Mikleo perfectly understood what he felt while singing that song… and understood it even beyond what he seems capable of explaining to himself.

Mikleo throws him a sidelong glance. “Uh, I guess that sounds vague and I’m not even sure if you’re having the same thoughts but… I think you have that way of singing that says there’s a lot more than words can ever say… and that’s why we need songs in the first place. ‘Cause the heart doesn’t  _always_ speak the same language… and if it doesn’t, then we need to follow the melodies that speak to the soul…”

Sorey’s eyes shimmered back and suddenly, it seemed as if all the excitement in the world was just right there, in those emerald eyes that gazed back warmly at Mikleo.

“That—that’s the most amazing thing anyone's ever said about my singing!”

Mikleo gave him a curious stare. “Really? But you have so many fans…”

Sorey looked down, shaking his head. “Nothing beats a single praise from the people most precious to you.”

Mikleo looked away, feeling embarrassed as his cheeks burned. Did he hear that right? Was Sorey Sheppard saying—nah, he just has this weird way of appreciating people or complimenting them, that should be it. Besides, being a celebrity and having a sophisticated family background must have given him ample practice on the rudiments of socializing with fans or potential fans... so it shouldn't be surprising that Sorey behaves like a nice, decent guy who knows how to return favors. And talking about favors, there was one important thing Mikleo was forgetting.

He bowed his head low in front of Sorey. Sorey looked panicked.

“H-hey, Mikleo, what—what’s got into you?!”

“Thank you.” It was short and unoriginal but he hoped Sorey could sense the sincerity in those words. If he had bothered to overthink it, he might never get to say it at all anyway.

“W-what are you saying, it’s just a song—”

“Hey, you’re the one who saved my life—or did you also forget?" Mikleo cut him off. "I should have thanked you sooner but I was being an insensitive idiot. I realized just now that you’re a really cool guy. You’ve helped me out in more ways than one and this is all I could say for all that you’ve done for me. Sorry.”

In a flash Sorey was standing right in front of Mikleo without the glass in between to keep them from touching.

Sorey’s arms reached out to hold Mikleo by the shoulders. “Hey, Mikleo, it’s not like you have to be _sooo_ formal about this. Besides, you’re going to be my tutor. That’s more than enough for me.”

“Guess that means you can torture me as much as you like, right?”

Sorey felt like pressing Mikleo to him but that might come across as weird. And it would definitely hurt him if Mikleo jumped away and started thinking of him as perverted. He smiled, scratching his cheek self-consciously. “Nah, I should be the one listening to your mom and Edna’s warning! They say you’re tough and strict and patient as hell—which means you’re never gonna let me walk away from anything until you get the results you want.”

Mikleo almost snickered. “Yeah, that’s about all of it I guess. Nice to know somebody knows…”

Sorey rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish grin. “Ah-hah, now I know the rumors are all true…”

“So what other stuff have you to show me? I’ve to admit you’re full of surprises.”

“Well, Mikleo, this next one’s just gonna make your heart burst I’m sure!” And without thinking, Sorey grabbed Mikleo by the wrist, leading him out the door.

Mikleo felt the familiar warmth and didn’t flinch like he almost did last time. In fact, this time he welcomed the contact, feeling all of Sorey’s sincerity in that innocent touch.

“Fine, you do declare everything to the wind you know!”

Sorey led him to a wide corridor and up a grand staircase leading to the second floor that had a long carpeted hallway. Mikleo was amazed at the wall-to-wall paintings and tapestries that gave the second floor the look and feel of a national museum. But when Sorey produced a key from his pocket, turned it through the keyhole and gave the huge, heavy, finely sculptured mahogany doors an urgent push, Mikleo found his breath hitching.

This must be heaven. A library that looked better than his best imagination.

Mikleo’s eyes shimmered radiantly, and for an instant he seemed to be lost in a fairytale wonderland. He felt as if he could just stare at those infinite pillars of books… rows upon rows of books and tomes… endless lines and towers of shelves filled with books. It’s like being in a world of books, a paradise that shuts the rest of the world out… a haven where you can be perfectly safe and happy reading your heart away with no other worries, nothing to interrupt your pleasures…

There must be at least thousands of them just waiting to be read… waiting to be touched and appreciated…

Sorey stared at Mikleo and smiled. He had never seen that glow on his face before. And for as long as he could, he wanted to see him like that. He wanted nothing more than to see him glowing with that innocent sort of happiness that no one could touch or hurt or take away…

He would take away all the pains of yesterday, the hurt and abuse Mikleo suffered in the hands of those kidnappers, in the claws of that hellion… He would never let any monster touch him that way ever again. For as long as he’s here beside him, Mikleo can be safe and happy just like this…

“So, Mikleo, where do you wanna start?”

Mikleo was still too flabbergasted to speak. “U-uh, I’m sorry?”

“C’mon, why are you holding back? You’re free to explore every nook and cranny of this library! I’m the only one aside from Gramps who has a key to this room. Nobody’s allowed to disturb us, so just go right ahead and read!”

“H-how about you?”

Sorey tugged his wrist again. “Since you asked, well, let me show you some stuff that everybody else is dying to see!”

Mikleo giggled slightly. “From the way you said that, I was kinda hoping for some lost, secret journal, or a document full of government secrets—or a missing scholarly work that’s been controversial for ages!”

Sorey laughed back. “Sorry, I doubt if it’s as great as that, but it all depends on the reader! Like, you wanna see some of my mom’s research materials? She had one novel that was only half-finished so it never reached the publisher. If you’re curious…”

Mikleo’s eyes went round like saucers. “Y-you’re kidding, right? You mean, _The Chronicles of Zestiria_ —that-that trilogy’s supposed to have a sequel?”

Sorey laughed. “You think I’d be joking about something so important?”

“W-wait… I don't think I ever told you I was a fan of Miss Selene Sheppard’s—uh, I mean your mom’s—novels, so how did you—”

“Intuition.”

Mikleo tugged his hand loose and crossed his arms over his chest. “Really, huh?”

Sorey looked away. “You had a picture taken with my mom. It was the last book signing event she had before she—passed away…”

Mikleo remembers that clearly. During the book signing, Miss Selene Sheppard had suddenly asked that their picture be taken. Some fans seemed miffed, perhaps wondering why the celebrated author picked him randomly out of the crowd, most of which had been waiting in a queue for her autograph. He remembered feeling so shy and embarrassed but also happy that he got that rare chance to exchange smiles with his favorite writer, her hand on his right shoulder as they stood alongside each other in front of the camera. Little did he know that _that_ would be his first and last chance to do just that. Six months after the event, Selene Sheppard was all over the Internet, the papers, and many of her fans were just as shocked as him to learn that she had a car accident while driving along the countryside of southern France. In her death, she left behind so many fans who had been dying to see the world of Zestiria come to life in yet another sequel, as well as a legacy of writing that inspired so many other young novelists.

A great part of Mikleo wanted to become a writer because of her… because he wanted to be given the chance to create a world like Zestiria… a world of humans and seraphim caught in this endless battle against the forces of Malevolence, a shadow of evil that hides in everyone’s secret wishes… in the deepest hate and the most ideal of loves… among enemies and friends… in the heart of every creature, even in the purest human or seraph.

“It’s just right here…” Sorey stops in front of a shelf and skimming it left and right, smiles as he pulls at the spine of a book bound in leather with an inlay of gold at the edges.

Mikleo’s eyes shimmer as Sorey holds the book with both hands and puts it carefully on his waiting palm. “ _The_ _Seraphim Chronicles: Rise of the Shadowlords_. Mom was writing it as a sequel for her Zestiria novels. I remember another book she used to read to me when I was four or five… I think that was the _Celestial Record_? She used it as a reference for all her books… And it used to be my favorite. It reminds me of those days when we still lived together—me, my mom… and dad… But I guess she left that book in France or some other place ‘cause I can’t find it anywhere… But the original manuscript must be around here somewhere. It's not as complete or accurate, but if you wanna take a look… well, I have to find it first I think... uh, you wouldn't mind waiting, I guess?”

Mikleo could only stare in quiet disbelief at the book resting on his palm. A work of wonders. Just holding it, feeling it like this, Mikleo was struck with so many emotions flooding, overwhelming his senses all at once. Until now he couldn't believe his luck.

"Uh, Mikleo?"

“Look, this alone is already a lot... I mean, to be actually holding an original, gods, what you have here is a rare treasure for keeps… Are you sure you don’t mind letting me read this?”

Sorey gazed back with as much emotion, his chest heaving with the need to resist the attraction that was pulling his body toward that irresistible force in front of him. “That’s the only reason I’m sharing it with you. Because it’s so important to me…”

Mikleo gave him a sidelong glance. “Th-thanks, Sorey, I won’t forget this ever… I mean this—this is the nicest surprise I could ever wish for… and you’re just too kind to do this…”

Lavender eyes shyly gazed at him, and Sorey suddenly felt something hot crawl down his spine and pool at his abdomen, spreading down his thighs in a way that made him jerk with a panic.

_Sheesh… what the—and why now?_

Mikleo was in a rapture, lavender eyes shining like a child’s as he flipped back the cover gently and started running his long, tapering fingers along the smooth, fragile edges of the volume.

Sorey’s breathing hitched. Mikleo’s fingers looked so elegant… so soft and pale and sensitive… like the rest of him seems to be… like that smooth, creamy skin just below the short crop of hair that exposed the slender curve of his nape. All that skin was hard to ignore this close, and it seems to be begging him for the longest time to touch it… to have his own finger run along its smooth curve, down to that elegant collarbone… All he had to do was peel off the fabric that was hiding the rest of that flawless skin from his eyes…

Sorey squeezed his eyes shut. _No, no, stop, no way!_ He shouldn’t be thinking about _that_ of all things! It wasn’t calming the heat in his groin, which was making that part of him more alive and awake, tingling and throbbing so uncomfortably.

He can’t be mistaken. Of course, being a guy, he knows that such bodily reactions are natural… in relation to any stimulation at least. But…

_Gods… n—not—not this time, not here, why now, WHY NOW???_

Sorey turned around, trying to suppress that furious warmth that was enveloping him completely, making him restless and so hard and tight in _that_ place…

Mikleo touched him at the shoulder. “H-hey, are you all right?”

Sorey almost flinched, as his groin started heating even more at the slightest, innocent contact. His hand trembled. _Dammit, w-why now? This… this is just so… so embarrassing!!!!_

“Sorey?”

Sorey slightly peeked at Mikleo from over his shoulder. “Uh, sorry, I—I just remembered something… I—I think I left my cellphone somewhere, and Gramps must be calling, and I need to call your mom to ask if it’s okay to have you here until dinner—I mean you’d want to have more time to read, r-right?”

Mikleo smiled shyly, averting his gaze. “Of course…”

 _Gods… that look_. Sorey felt the heat rising to a climax as those urgent tingling sensations followed every detail in Mikleo’s face, his hands, even the fact that he was just within arm’s reach, looking so vulnerable, so innocent, smelling so good, so relaxed and comfortable right next to him just like this…

Just now that part of him swelled with desire, filling him with a mad and maddening urgency to touch, to let his burning skin graze that cool smoothness up and down—every damn inch of it—and press itself hard and relieve itself completely…

To think Mikleo did nothing more than show him his best smile yet.

_N-no, n-no, no, no gods, NO WAAAYYYY… Not now… and not here ever!!!_

Without bothering to excuse himself, Sorey ran out of the library, leaving Mikleo staring after him, lost in wonder.

 

**o-----)o(-----o**

“I was expecting you’d call Edna…”

“Lailah, are you keeping a close watch on those two?”

“Worried?”

“Cut it, would you! You know those two shouldn’t be left alone together too much. I mean, it’s not like I don’t trust Meebo at all…”

“I see… well, Zaveid just told me he bumped into Sorey just a minute ago. He seemed to be in a hurry, but he didn’t bother to say what it was about when Zaveid asked. As for Mikleo, Sorey left him in the library, which gives me an idea that that’s _all_ they’ve been doing the entire time, really. Those geeks…”

Lailah couldn’t help giggling. Edna was quiet for about five seconds.

“Sheesh, so he has it bad, really, that Sheppard. I didn’t know he had this side to him… not like he could lie about it forever, of course. Or maybe Sorey’s just the biggest dork or the latest bloomer in the universe, sheesh… like this is the first time he found out about that _thing_ between his legs.”

“Uh, Edna… I don’t think I quite get that. What do you mean?”

Edna huffed. “Never mind. Just make sure Sorey Sheppard keeps his hands off Meebo. You know what could happen if he makes the slightest mistake…”

“Edna! Don’t tell me that’s _all_ you’ve been worried about, of all things!”

“And why not? Where’s Alisha by the way? Shouldn’t you be calling her to the rescue or something? After all we’re talking about her official boyfriend here--fiancé to be exact. She should be able to keep those two guys apart—at least for now. I mean, it _never_ worked before, but you can never tell. It’s worth a shot in _this_ world at least, if you ask me.”

“Huh? But Edna… seriously… I don’t think that’s a very good idea…”

“SO ARE YOU TELLING ME WE SHOULD JUST LET THOSE TWO BECOME LOVEBIRDS OVERNIGHT?!”

“Ah-hah, c-cool it Edna…” Lailah was sweating. She had never heard Edna raise her voice like that. Not like anyone would misunderstand Edna’s ways of showing concern. She’s just a little on the extreme side, and she only gets worked up like this when it’s about Mikleo. Everyone knows that, everyone understands that. Except Edna herself…

“Fine, maybe I should ring Alisha Diphda myself, how about that?”

Lailah was shocked. “N-no, please Edna, have a heart! I mean… don’t you think it’s nice to see Sorey and Mikleo together again? Even if it's only like this?"

"Nothing is more tragic, Lailah, than the word 'only,' you know that."

"But our dear, poor Shepherd. I can't even imagine what he feels after giving up so much. To be left in the dark all this time without any reassurance. With nothing but a faint, wavering hope and possibility..."

"Well then, why don't we stop giving them false hopes? They're hardly kids anymore."

"They'd always be kids no matter how much time passes, Edna. Even Zaveid keeps saying how it really brings back old memories, and I can't help but agree. Especially with Mikleo. Because he doesn’t remember any of us, and it's even much worse for our Shepherd... because Mikleo won't even be able to-"

“Stop that, geez. Are we gonna have a cry-fest here ourselves?”

Lailah sighed. “You know about the Gate don’t you? Zenrus told us about it. He didn’t get the chance to speak with our dear lost Shepherd, but from the way Sorey—the Sorey we know now—described everything that went on, the only logical explanation is _that_.”

Edna exhaled loudly. “Too late to feel bad about it. That other Sorey is stubborn as a rock. He should’ve known better than to weave a Gate to come here but he did. It will take longer than forever to keep those two apart, really. Those hopeless, cheesy, geeky lovebirds, sheesh, why am I even stuck with those two? Meebo, most especially…”

Lailah smiled to herself. “You’re gonna hate me if I try answering that question for you…”

“Then shut up, Lailah. You’re not even allowed to make a guess, all right?”

“Right, of course." Lailah felt a tear already rolling down one cheek. To think that the dam inside her almost broke and spilled when Mikleo shook her hand for the first time in a long, long time. Too long, in fact…

“So are you saying it’s safe to just let them be? Can you give me that assurance at least? Even if the risks are far greater than all of us are ready for?”

Lailah held back a tear. “What did you feel when you first saw them together?”

“Stop asking stupid questions will you…” It was all Edna could say. And she didn’t—couldn’t even sound half as angry as she would have liked. “I know what it feels like… to stand there and just watch the past and the present come together in its own messed up way, that’s all I can say for now. If you ever make me cry like the last time, I’d seriously be calling it quits. I can’t stand seeing them, Lailah. And you know better than anyone else what I _really_ mean by that.”

“You mean well, Edna. Everyone knows that. Because we all feel the same.”

“So what are you being such a drama queen for, gods, you’re _not_ gonna make everyone cry again would you? Meebo’s gonna be fine. He should be fine or I’d kill him with my own bare fingers.”

“Edna…”

“Look, this call is getting long and I have tons of work in my hands, thanks to the meeb. Just wanna know if you guys are doing fine. Whatever it is, just knowing you’re around those two should make me feel better. I guess Meebo’s germs are finally getting to me. He’s highly contagious and I’m beginning to show some symptoms...”

“Edna, if anything urgent comes up, I’ll let you know right away, so stop worrying so much. Of course, I feel like saying that to myself and everyone else including Zenrus. He’s really worried about those two. One hellion is all the sign we need to know that far more dangerous things might well be on their way… and though I’m more worried about that, I realize you’re right—some risks are closer to home than we think. And Sorey happens to be that risk… unfortunately.”

“I’m also part of the scheme that got all of us in this mess, so I guess I shouldn’t be so hard on you guys for being so soft on those two. But still, I won’t forgive Sorey EVER if he dares make a move on Meebo, all right? I’ll call you in the morning. Thanks Lailah... Guess I'm cranky and not myself these past few days. You understand right?”

Lailah smiled. "No offense taken when it's you, Edna. You know that."

"I don't know what I'd do without you. Talk to you later, all right? Bye..."

As soon as she dropped her cellphone on the side table next to the bed, Edna started thinking. If their one-and-only Shepherd is on the move, using Gates to establish some link with his human persona to try and reach Mikleo—to save Mikleo from any threat of hellion-attacks—then that can only mean one _other_ thing.

Lunarre. There is the remotest possibility that Lunarre Lefayette is on the move, ingeniously disguised maybe, to escape their suspicions. Of course that meant his memories have finally been awakened as well. Unlike her and Lailah, it took several years for the memories of the others to return to them and make them realize what they were doing in a world that is definitely _not_ Glenwood, definitely not the ultra-medieval, empire-run sort of world that they had previously inhabited. While centuries—two thousand years in fact—have passed by Glenwood’s standards, on earth, it seemed only two hundred and fifty years have gone by. But it felt awfully long to Edna given the fact that so many things had to be sorted out the moment she and Lailah arrived—like how to survive on a day to day basis in a human world that sees seraphim. Of course there was also the matter of finding their companions Zaveid and Dezel. It took about fifty years for those two to recognize her and Lailah… for all of them to get all of their memories back and to figure out a way of acquiring a more-or-less stable human identity which they needed to move around and interact in this peculiar, human world.

Edna almost winced at that. Saying it was all _peculiar_ is an understatement. The first thing that struck her and Lailah upon their _arrival_ was how every human saw them, heard them, made physical contact with them as if they were no different. That was a shocking first. In their former world, humans needed resonance, that special sensing ability to perceive seraphim. And resonance is a rare, divine gift—of all the humans she had met, only Shepherd Sorey had complete and absolute control of it, like he was innately blessed with such a power. In a way, not depending on that frail ability called resonance was also novel, exciting. For the first time, Edna had to get used to being seen and heard, being the center of human attention, being the object of attraction and scrutiny. It wasn’t like she had gotten used to it entirely, of course. In school everybody knew how snotty and insensitive and indifferent she could be even in public.

Of course, that can’t be helped. She is still a seraph, after all… a seraph by all means.

It was way different with Rose and Alisha. Those two were humans before so the principle following their reincarnation—their revival—along with the seraphim must be tied to the Shepherd’s original powers… along with his memories, his will and resolve. The Heart of the Malevolence must have known his desire to revive them, along with Dezel of course, and Zenrus most certainly, who had fallen in their battle with Heldalf. Zenrus was the sacrifice that gave those two boys the insurmountable will to defeat the Lord of Calamity, to prove to themselves that neither fear nor hate was enough to taint their purest hearts…

And the Heart of the Malevolence must have also known that in this final battle, the Shepherd would need every single ally, every single companion who could lend his or her power to protect the vessel—that one soul Sorey valued more than anything.

But of course, that doesn’t explain either Mikleo… or the _other_ Sorey.

Until now, those two are a mystery. Nobody predicted that they would be born as humans, or that they would each arrive in the body and shape of an unborn child, which required incubation in the body of another human as well. Edna could only surmise that it had something to do with the Shepherd’s pact with the Heart of the Malevolence. To hide their presence from the Insidion, the Heart of that evil transported Mikleo and Sorey’s half to this world as mortals. After all, the Insidion never really cared much about humans. If it were to search for its enemies, it would look among the divine immortals of Celestia led by the Leviathan or the Five Eternal Gods. It would go after the Innominat or the Five Lords, the most powerful among the seraphim who stand between the immortal and the mortal realms. For the Insidion, humans and mortals alike are neither friends nor enemies; they are simply prey, nothing but cattle that only existed to feed its predatory instincts. They are nothing more than living sources of energy that generate Malevolence, which the Insidion feeds upon and from which it draws its strength. Hellions and other creatures of dark and malice are simply minions to it—nothing more than slaves and catalysts that blindly harvest this Malevolence from humans in order to serve the will and purpose of the Insidion, which is to set the balance between creation and chaos, between life and death, immortality and time.

And the only thing that stood in its way, the only force that could keep the Insidion from upsetting that balance to its favor, from letting chaos, death, and destruction reign in absolute victory against its polar opposite, was the Heart of the Malevolence itself…

And that Heart sleeps somewhere inside Mikleo, the Heart that could not be weighed by all the souls of the divine and the mortal—god, seraphim or human alike—the only Heart that is heavier than all the forces of the stars, more powerful than the gravity of all its galaxies created and unborn…

All of that horrible, cataclysmic power is in a deep, secret slumber somewhere within Mikleo, in his soul, in every unseen corner, in every thread and fiber of his being. And the most terrifying thing was that he doesn’t even know it.

Edna told herself she would never cry about this again, that thinking about it is never going to change things. But no matter how she tried to harden her heart and soul and will against it, she found herself crying, tears welling up in her eyes and falling like a stream that seemed calm yet endless.

She cursed between breaths. _That_ Meebo would definitely have to pay for all this heartache. He had no right to make everyone feel this bad. Who was he anyway to try to stop something bigger than the universe itself, sacrificing himself like that just because some Shepherd could _not_ be stopped from purifying that stupid rock called the Insidion?

They could have simply watched the universe die and be reborn. If that’s how the Insidion wanted it, why should they even step in and try to stop it? Only the higher immortals of Celestia made up of the so-called Leviathan and the Malekhai or the Herald-Knights—seraphim bound to the will of the Eternal Gods—craved immortality so much, feared death so much that they would stake everything to rid the universe of the Insidion, the True Lord and Origin of the Malevolence, or perhaps, the Essence of All Things Made and Unmade, the God and Creator of Nothingness. All these names speak of a frightening power set to destroy the universe and everything in it, even the timeless immortals. But if anyone were to ask Edna, her answer would have been so simple. And so is the question that goes with it.

Why did she have to see Meebo suffer so much, be tortured this much, if the universe were to end anyway?

Edna steeled herself as she wiped away those tears with a vengeance. No, she didn’t have to see him suffer again. Not again and again like this, just because of a certain Shepherd who was loved far too much for his own good…

Just like her, Sorey would have wanted more than anything to save Mikleo. For Edna, that meant doing whatever it takes—no matter who got hurt or who got to suffer—to make certain that Mikleo is protected from any harm or threat. Even if it means bending the wills of the Leviathan and raising hell in this human world called earth, she, Lailah, and the others would never allow any single one of their eternal companions to make impossible sacrifices again.

Not precious Meebo. Not this time and not ever. Edna swore she would rather slaughter a million hellions with her bare hands than see him go through that much pain all over again.

And that is why for as long as she breathes, she would do everything in her power to keep the Heart of the Malevolence from being found, even if it meant hurting that one person to whom they owe this second existence, this second chance at life.

Even if it meant keeping Sorey apart from Mikleo… even if it meant damning that stupid Meebo to an eternity of solitude as the Heart’s vessel. Edna knew _that_ is the only pain that could hurt Sorey, the only pain Sorey would never endure, more than the pain from all the nameless evils that he had battled in this life and would have to face in the next…

Edna dialed a number on her cellphone and waited. She needed to talk to Zenrus. They must see Lunarre as soon as they can—if he would still see them. She knows for certain that Lunarre is just one of many possibilities—for didn’t the Heart of the Malevolence tell them that opening a Gate to another world meant following the _law of symmetry_ at all costs—the balance between the pure and the tainted, the dark and the good? Isn’t that the reason why Lunarre—and possibly a host of other bloodthirsty hellions standing by him, gripped with the cruel malice of the Insidion—was transported to this world along with the seraphim?

Edna saw the crumbling of that world they left behind, saw the fall of cities and their walls and towers, the uprooting of kingdoms and civilizations, the bloody deaths of entire armies slaughtered right before their very eyes as the Gate raised by the Shepherd shone before them, gripping them with the promise of salvation that was even more agonizing than the pain of death.

For none of them wanted to leave Glenwood. They agreed that dying wasn’t so bad, that ending it all is what all life leads to in the end.

But there was Mikleo. There was that irreplaceable existence, that seraph who was loved by Sorey far more than the universe he was trying to save. Edna knew that everyone made the decision to be saved by the Gate, to be taken to this world, only because it was the only way they could be with Mikleo… For letting themselves perish with everyone in Glenwood would mean letting Mikleo shoulder the burden of existence alone. As the Heart’s vessel, Mikleo’s existence would be tied to the existence of the Insidion. Hidden in this alien, human world, Mikleo would be alone and innocent of his purpose, unwittingly doomed to shoulder the responsibility of keeping the balance of the universe from cracking, from splitting and sinking all worlds into the hell of nothingness.

And once the Insidion finds out about the existence of the Heart of the Malevolence within Mikleo, it will doubtless pursue him with all its demons, with an entire hell of hellions such as the universe has never known. Mikleo would be at the mercy of the Insidion’s unholy army of chaos and rebirth, an army which, consumed by all sorts of lusts—from the most perverse to the most sanguinary—must be virtually unstoppable, an enemy not even Celestia would dare provoke.

Doubtless Sorey knew that and feared it more than the universe falling at his feet… And that is why he wanted to save those that can save Mikleo from this hellish destiny, this twisted, cruel fate.

From here on it would seem Sorey’s motives were shamelessly selfish. Saving and resurrecting all of his companions to serve as Mikleo’s shield… But isn’t love selfish to the core? Is there anything that can define love _un_ selfishly at all?

She could never be the judge of that, of course. Even her wish to keep Sorey and Mikleo apart was downright selfish. And she didn’t have to feel guilty about it either.

But first, these hellions must be dealt with—and that means starting with the one closest to home, Lunarre Lefayette. This time Zenrus would have to listen to what she had to say. This time she would convince him to take the offensive and move while it’s still early. Right now, she wanted to leap to where Lunarre was to find out if he would indeed be a threat—or had been _that_ threat that hurt Meebo. Not that she needed to wait for him to become a threat to make a move to eliminate him. Two hundred and fifty years is a long time for sleeping—even for a hellion.

But after all these years, she’s still hoping Lunarre has not awakened sooner than they feared.

 

**o-----)o(-----o**

 

Mikleo was certain something moved.

It wasn’t uncomfortable or anything, but it definitely felt weird… like it was something he has never felt before. The moment he touched the emblem that was roughly sketched on the page before him, he felt a slight tingling, a warm current of energy flowing from his fingertips to his limbs, to his chest, filling him with sensations that were unlike anything he has ever known. Sometimes he would imagine sparks flickering at the edge of his vision, flickers of energy swarming like luminous moths around him that would suddenly disappear as soon as he began to pay close attention. He wondered if it was some optic illusion designed to illuminate the words written on the page, those lines in cursive that sounded so familiar as he read them:

 

_The power is brought forth in the spirit, and the spirit captures the power._

_With balance may Malevolence be purified; with imbalance does the body smolder and burn…_

_The Shepherd is granted four powers: earth, water, fire, and wind._

_They are the blade that shall cleave the Lord of Calamity…_

_Scattered across this land are the shrines of trials. Tests they are of power and spirit._

_Test thyself, Shepherd, and brandish thy might._

_Rise to the challenge and stake thy will on the outcome._

 

The next page was blank. Mikleo wondered at that. It was the only blank page in between chapters, like something was intended to be written there but casually forgotten.

Then just as Mikleo started to close the book, he felt the pages quiver between his fingertips, felt the book leap from his hands to the floor, fluttering wildly as if a mad wind had possessed it. Then the book opened to exactly that same blank page he wondered about.

When Mikleo turned to see what was really happening, he could only gawk.

Following the last line he had read just a minute ago were scraggly, broken verses that appeared in cursive handwriting, gleaming with an eerie, sickly, inhuman glow. With a vague feeling of fear and curiosity, Mikleo picked up the book, keeping his eyes on the words that seemed to whisper and taunt with a naked, invisible will.

 

_You, whose eyes see the truth,_

_Confound this darkness with wordless vows,_

_Hide your contempt beneath the shroud of justice,_

_Mask your sorrows with broken joys,_

_Melt your desires in the forbidden chalice,_

_Dwell not in the heart, trust not the soul,_

_For the Heart of Evil is wrought by Evil…_

_Malevolence is wrought by Malevolence…_

_Touch not the power that blinds…_

_All truths are lies. And the only absolution_

_Is the Cauldron of Rebirth_

_The one final place, the well of shadows_

_Where even death cannot hide..._

 

Mikleo bristles at that. He could hardly believe that the same author had written this, since the lines seem redolent with the spirit of death, of mortality and the end of all things... The warning echoes in those words seem too apocalyptic, signifying the belief that compared with other hells, death is a kind of redemption, an escape from that place of punishment, that place where all truths are shaken and destroyed.

But how can death and destruction and chaos be a better means of escape? More than that, what terrible dreams, what imagined horrors could have possessed Selene Sheppard to write these kinds of frightening revelations... these pronouncements that sound so real, so enigmatic but thought-provoking, the way curses are...

Mikleo suddenly wished he had someone to discuss these mysteries, these confusing inconsistencies in the writer’s framework. Maybe if she had had time to write more chapters, she might have been able to flesh out the plot leading to these conclusions, as well as give hints that might help the reader arrive at the meaning she wanted to convey.

At the thought of discussing it, he looked sideways and called Sorey’s name.

That was funny. Sorey had left some time ago and had not returned since. Whatever was keeping him was none of his business but it was a distracting thought to Mikleo that he felt impatient not having Sorey here with him, not having Sorey beside him to ask what the matter was, or if there was anything Mikleo needed at all, any help he could give him…

Mikleo felt his skin crawl and his heart skip a beat at that sudden realization. They had only been together for half a day and he already have all these expectations—expectations that are making him queasy and impatient and uncomfortable. It is as if all of a sudden waiting for Sorey is a pain—because there is no reason for him to be anywhere else but here, just right next to him where he is wanted and needed…

Mikleo winced. He would have to flush out all these stupid, useless thoughts as soon as Sorey gets here. Or as soon as he finds him.

And most definitely as soon as he gets home.

 

**o-----)o(-----o**

 

Lips quivered and hands moved to that forbidden place not even allowed in his imagination.

But resisting lust is futile when the mind resisting it is no different from the mind wanting it. And Sorey Sheppard knew he had neither felt—nor wanted—it this badly before, so much so that every inch of him is trembling, quivering with that helpless, hopeless urgent need…

Sorey must have pleaded a hundred times by now… But no matter how useless it all seemed, it was all he could do to keep himself from falling over the edge, from _coming_ to that place of no return…

_Please… oh god… don’t let me be like this…_

Sorey Sheppard groaned as that part of him became slick and thick between his fingers. With an arm stretched out to support his weight against the tiled wall of the shower, Sorey let the strain in his manhood ease itself inside his other hand, which grasped it roughly, feeling the shaft up and down its entire length, letting it throb and swell with a restless, swelling ache. As Sorey massaged it beneath streams of cold water falling from the shower, another groan escapes him.

_I’m… so pathetic… dammit… why now… and like this…_

But asking is not making it easier. In fact, it was just making the restlessness inside him even more intense, swelling his need inside his hand even more, making his fingers aware of what it needed to do to calm the hardening, tightening urges.

He guided his hand once more to the tip of the shaft, pressing it slightly to keep it from wanting an explosive release.

But he knew he was just prolonging the inevitable. If anything at all, it was just delaying the climax, which was also helping it become more intense, more volatile…

Did he really desire Mikleo this badly? In this low, physical, way that’s no different from what other guys do with porn or maybe with something more stimulating?

Sorey didn’t want things to be like that. Mikleo is certainly someone more important and precious than that…

But his body and his heart didn’t seem to understand the whole point of saying _that_ in his mind. It just wants what it wants.

As simple as that. To make matters worse, even the cold, freezing water was ignoring his prayer.

_No… no… NO WAY… no way, gods, please, dammit, don’t let me be like this… Why now... how—how can I even look at him if it gets to be like this all the time?_

His manhood was hardening and growing between his fingers. Involuntarily, driven by pure instinct, his fingers went up and down quickly, faster and faster, as if it knew exactly what his body wanted, what his manhood really needed. And it wasn’t a lecture on guilt or purity or anything like that. Even his thighs had started to become taut and restless with need, making his back arch forward, making his arm push against the wall more urgently, as his desires came swelling with an overpowering, overwhelming will, threatening, aching to spill...

He wanted it now… he wanted to come so badly… and all he could think of was Mikleo’s face… those shy, evasive smiles, those lavender eyes that glimpsed him unawares, innocent and half-afraid to meet his gaze.

He has a thing for that… those looks, those stares that were doing their best to resist him… He wanted to see those expressions on Mikleo’s face, in his eyes, on his lips, on the curve of that sensuous mouth… Sorey gets turned on by those… and try as he might to turn his attention the _other_ way—on any of that stuff that normal guys his age would obsess with in dark, silent, secrecy, he couldn’t help it… he couldn’t force himself to be aroused or provoked by anything or anyone else...

His body would react _only_ when it’s Mikleo, and that reaction is always the same, always like this, filling him with that addicting heat that he couldn’t resist, that forced his body to do this—this thing that felt amazingly good… _too_ good…

_Dam-dammit, st-stop it, stop saying that, I can’t think about those things all the time… oh god…_

But he’s coming really fast as his fingers felt the lustful swelling pulsate eagerly, violently within. It wouldn’t be stopped. And it craved only that image in his mind, that one look, one smile…

"Mikleo… gods, Mikleo… uh... Mikleo… I'm almost... there... Mikleo…!"

His manhood jerked and Sorey arched his body helplessly, his chin lifting itself to the shower as his manhood thrust itself forward violently, hot liquid pooling around its quivering tip, becoming cold and clammy around his fingers as he stared at it guiltily.

He closed his eyes, letting the water wash it off his shivering skin. It wasn't enough.

It would never be enough. But for now, that's not important.  

"I'm... sorry... I'm so sorry, Mikleo..."

He didn’t know how many times he moaned Mikleo's name shamelessly before his climax came, letting that shameless, irrepressible lust drive him over the edge.

He should know better. He shouldn't be like this. Letting his imagination turn Mikleo into a tool of pleasure is wrong even if it were harmless. Knowing this, he could have done something, anything to tame this shameless, impulsive craving... to channel or divert this mindless addiction into a useful, healthy distraction.

Sorey slammed a fist against the cold, tile wall. How frustrating! Even cold water can't keep the heat down when it comes to these things. Thank god the entire mansion had sound-proof interiors, or those choked cries and sobbing moans would have betrayed him.

That didn't sound quite right either. It almost seemed as if he was practically justifying his actions, excusing all those indecent sounds he made that were desperate and needy, like he had been in heat for the longest time.

Sorey clenched his fist. He needs to do something about this and quickly. He can’t let such feelings get in the way every time Mikleo’s around, especially now that they’d be working closely together, even alone…

His manhood started throbbing as if in anticipation.

_WH—WHAT THE- Am—am I such a beast? A maniac? How can I have multiple—_

But the evidence is staring him in the face. His manhood was rising to the occasion, as if to mock his biological presumptions.

_NO WAY… G-gods, NO WAYYY!!!_

Twenty minutes later, Sorey slumped on the bed, letting his back fall with a heavy thud on the mattress that was billowing white with the thick, fresh sheets that covered it. It was soft and smooth… so light, just like Mikleo’s creamy white skin…

 _Not again!_ Sorey jerked his head violently as he picked himself up from the bed and started to put some clothes on. He had barely combed the unruly strands off his forehead when he noticed his cellphone hum and vibrate.

He looked at the text message. _Mrs. Rulay?_

It was a short message that asked him simply if he could let Mikleo stay for the night. It seems she has a co-worker who couldn’t make it to her shift because of an emergency at home. Mikleo’s mom admitted how Mikleo might need her to be around the house since he just got out of the hospital, but she couldn’t turn down anybody else in urgent need either. If it wouldn’t be in the way, she’d appreciate it if he could keep him company just for one night… Of course, she’d pick him up in the morning before breakfast if need be….

Sorey sent her a reply saying he would be happy to keep Mikleo company and that she needn’t worry about anything at all… especially with Lailah and everyone else around to manage things. Then Sorey threw his cellphone to the side of the bed and hurled himself down, letting his arms fall like outstretched wings on the soft, white sheets.

Something in him couldn’t be happier than right this minute. Just having Mikleo all to himself the entire day is more than enough… but to have him sleep just right here close to him is like—is just—

Sorey Sheppard gave himself a punch on the chest. It was a pure, physical punch—not mental or imagined.

For some reason, he wanted to hurt himself for being this happy. The only problem was letting that happiness get _out_ of hand and _into_ his hand…

He blew some air against the strands of hair sticking to his face. Whatever happens, he needs to control that side of him. The only question is how…

He heard a light knock on the door, followed by a hesitant voice. “Uh, Sorey? Are—are you all right in there?”

_M-Mikleo!_

Sorey Sheppard froze, his body sitting up with a sudden violent jerk, as if he was a string puppet being controlled by an invisible hand. This is going to be the toughest day and night of his life, maybe…

And there’s no way anyone could ever know what he meant exactly by that. Brushing those worries aside though, he pulled himself to his feet and excitedly opened the door for Mikleo.

Lavender eyes looked at him with concern. But it was harder not to notice that they were a little curious about something too. His eyes glimpsed something in Mikleo’s hand and were just mildly surprised to see that he was still holding the same book—that unfinished novel Sorey showed him a while ago. He couldn’t help but feel flattered for his mom as he realized what a fan Mikleo really was.

“Uh, by the way, I just got a text message from your mom. She said you should stay for the night. It looks like she needs to fill in for a co-worker at the last minute.”

Mikleo sighed. “Overworking herself as soon as I’m not around, geez, mom’s kinda stubborn.”

“Says the one who’s not?”

“Funny, says the one who claims he’s  _not_ a critic.”

Sorey's heart skipped a beat as he recalled saying that a while ago. He leaned toward Mikleo, letting his voice come in a hushed whisper. “Want me to play Romeo then?”

Those words made his pulse race, but Mikleo steeled himself. “Yeah, and have all the girls in school kill me for not choosing her as Juliet? That's risking instant death.”

“Then why don’t  _you_ play Juliet then?”

That was unexpected. Mikleo stiffened, trying to slow down the heat rising to his face. “Right, should've known you’re such a tease! As if it’s fun to watch two pseudo-Elizabethan idiots in glittery costumes trying to pass off as romantic, huh? Unless you want the play to turn into a comedy, is that it?”

“Hey, I’ll kill anyone who even smirks at our performance!”

Mikleo huffs. “Why are we suddenly having this conversation? Uh, by the way, what happened to you? You didn’t show up after running away like that.”

Sorey pulls him into his room by the wrist. “Before I forget, I should’ve asked you to come in. This is my room.”

Mikleo looks around a bit, his eyes taking in the huge king-size bed that’s all fluffy white with all the thick pillows and soft sheets around it. “Know what? I can almost imagine royalty sleeping on that one. I guess even an entire stable can fit in here not to mention our own apartment, including the parking area.”

“I admit, it does seem a little too big for me.”

“An understatement, _Your Royal Hind-ness_.”

Sorey grins. “Seriously? But, since you agree that it’s just way too big for one person, why don’t you keep me company then? You can spend the night in my room… I'm sure neither of us would have to sleep on the floor with the bed being just right for two people...”

Mikleo looked at him in a weird way.

Sorey scratched at his cheek with an index finger. “Uh, for sleeping of course, but if you like, we can read and share some books too… and—and there are lots of other stuff we can do together I suppose… Of course if you prefer the guest room, that's available too, but it's just as big and bad as this one and it's so alone out there in the east wing...”

Mikleo ignored the goosebumps on his arm. “That said, I didn’t know you’re an avid reader yourself, Sorey...” Mikleo looked just a little bit suspicious.

“Ah-hah, you think students who need tutoring must hate books, right? What, do I look that dumb?”

Mikleo didn't quite expect Sorey to be so daring when he scrunched up his face and with two strides, forced Mikleo against the wall, nailing an arm right next to his profile, which had Mikleo completely trapped, cornered by the bed.

Sorey's banter would have sounded a bit threatening, but it only left faint echoes in Mikleo's mind as he started becoming aware of other things… unimportant, distracting things like that masculine scent around Sorey that seemed so overpoweringly virile… that heavy, heady, musky, woody aroma that has just the slightest hint of vanilla and spice…

Mikleo was hating himself again, but that didn’t mean Sorey had to know why.

“Look… I _never_ said anything about tutoring dumb students… If you were paying attention to your own words, you’d realize that assumption came from you. Besides..."

Sorey almost backed a step as Mikleo lifted his chin proudly, hoping to level up to Sorey who obviously had the height advantage. "If ignorance isn't just a temporary disability, teaching would be the most useless profession, don't you think? Wisdom is overrated because we hardly realize that intelligence is a reachable goal... that there's nothing so special about it at all."

Those words... Sorey felt his heart skip a beat, strangely satisfied with the way Mikleo crushed his logic. He needn’t explain how much he liked even this side of Mikleo: his simple yet provocatively penetrating insights, his ability to dodge insinuations with his own quick retorts that are not only unique and exciting but also capable of teasing out the not-so-obvious in a bluntly honest way that is never unkind…

Huge lavender eyes cocked an eyebrow at him. “What now?”

Sorey noticed he hasn’t pulled his arm away and still had Mikleo cornered, their chests almost touching. To think after all those things he had told himself in the shower he allowed himself to get this close… to indulge in that lingering, minty-sweet, ambrosial fragrance that he couldn’t ignore and was turning him on like hell…

He pulled away though it was difficult, and it was clear that a part of him felt angry, frustrated. Looking sideways at the windows on the opposite wall, he noticed that the afternoon sky was slowly changing to twilight, leaving an afterglow that looked wonderful against the soft curtains that fluttered by the glass doors that opened to a wide balcony.

Sorey's mind wanders to that scenery below the balcony and suddenly, as if waiting for that cue, a flood of memories fills him...

Their first meeting at the courtyard, that painful, embarrassing slap on the cheek, their narrow escape from brutal strangers... Although most of these things seemed too terrible to recall, they were undeniably the bond that held them together...

Sorey looked at Mikleo with languid eyes, letting those memories drift into the corners of his mind as he pulled Mikleo toward the glass.

“There’s something else you might wanna see.”

Mikleo let himself be led by the hand as Sorey pushed the glass doors with his free arm.

The balcony Sorey led Mikleo to reveals a breath-taking view of the huge courtyard below with its marble sculptures surrounding a huge fountain in the center. There were two other fountains in the innermost part of the labyrinthian gardens that occupied most of the open space, but they didn’t look as imposing as the one that had a smooth, white-as-alabaster sculpture—obviously a fine replica—of a Venus de Milo in the center. Mikleo also noticed that the labyrinth was formed by dense shrubbery and short trees that have been trimmed creatively to make it form a particular shape when viewed from above.

In fact the shape was that of a circle with a zigzag that looked like lightning crossing the center and a crescent shape, like a half moon, sitting on one side of it.

Mikleo couldn’t help but wonder if it was the same emblem he saw on that page he was reading a while ago…

“Impressive isn’t it?” Sorey was feeling cocky, giving Mikleo a knowing smile as he edged a little closer toward Mikleo, leaning sideways to get a better view of his profile.

Mikleo was oblivious, all his attention on the beautiful scenery. “Uh-huh... but not quite as impressive as that sky… It’s nice watching the sunset from here…”

Sorey only thought of the colors of twilight blending so well with Mikleo's eyes that shone with a far-away look. He breathed a sigh.

“Still… not as impressive as watching _you_ from here…”

Sorey didn’t know how _that_ got out. In fact, he didn’t know how his arm just found its way to Mikleo’s waist really quickly, his fingers pressing on the soft, sensitive flesh beneath Mikleo's shirt, even as their chests touched, undeniably saying more than what their eyes couldn't as he felt the delicious heat from Mikleo's skin warming his own.

Like him, Mikleo seemed too shocked to say anything as twilight settled in the clouds above them, suffusing everything with a light crimson shade that had faint flickers of lavender and pink along the edges of it.

Just like a painting.

Something is definitely beginning for the very first time, and yet, and yet it all feels so achingly familiar... Sorey felt himself blush, felt every inch of his body flush hotly, throb warningly, as his eyes lingered on the ethereal beauty caught in his arms.

All he needed to do was to bend down a little to catch those sensuous lips with his own…

Though his eyes looked confused and a little afraid, Mikleo wasn’t even resisting… And to Sorey he felt so warm… as warm as the fevered rush he could feel crawling down his spine and making his chest, his limbs, all of him swell and heat up again… the way they have been since the moment Mikleo smiled at him that way…

Sorey’s heart was racing. All he could think about was what it would feel like to kiss Mikleo right now… to feel his supple, creamy skin against his own, to melt in the heat of their desires right now, to bury and sink himself over and over, roughly, wantonly, into the most intimate depths of Mikleo's being...

And when Mikleo closed his eyes softly, Sorey knew exactly what he wanted and needed to do… and his hand simply followed….

And in that moment of truth, with his eyes closed, Sorey Sheppard knew there was nothing in the world that could make him change his mind. Nothing… not even the fact that falling in love like this could make him lose everything that made him what he is, every single thing that defined his castle and kingdom…

Because his heart didn’t care. It just knows what it wants. And what it wants is right here… pressed against his body and his need and all of him. And this warmth, this heat, this untamed lust—no matter how selfish, no matter how shameless—is more precious than anything he's ever owned, more important than anything he's ever won or dared call his own…

More important than anything he could ever wish for.

Right now, all those _everythings,_ all those wishes couldn’t be as precious as this first kiss, as this first sensuous touch, that made him feel like the world could just disappear under his feet and melt forever, away into the fringes of a dissipated dream.

 

 

**o)------------o)O(o------------(o**

 


	6. Somewhere Here Again...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorey and Mikleo are about to experience the first of everything...
> 
> Shepherd Sorey and Symonne explore the caverns of Camoria in the hope of finding a sacred altar...
> 
> A conspiracy is born...
> 
> Alisha does something unexpected...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've revised the summary... Just like I said at the beginning of chapter 1, I find it hard to choose the details for the summary since this story/fic is still in the works. I have an idea for the ending, I don't know if it's gonna be happy-happy or sad-happy, but I'm working on it. A lot of things are about to happen of course... and there might be several break-up and make-up scenes along the way,.. at least that's pretty much obvious from here on. I like to get this chapter out of the way so I can focus on their school life... That would be for the upcoming chapters of course... though I don't know how long that would take... maybe two weeks? Thanks again for reading!
> 
> DISCLAIMER: The original story behind Tales of Zestiria and Tales of Zestiria the X belongs to Bandai-Namco and Ufotable respectively. Since the writer makes no profit from this labor of love and, in fact, struggles against shame and hopeless obsession every time she has to write an additional chapter for her self-pleasure and that of others like her, she respectfully makes a plea against any law suit. :D
> 
> Obsession has no shame, by the way. You've been warned. :D 
> 
> Again, thanks for leaving kudos! I welcome comments any time :D

**o)------------o)O(o------------(o**

 

_Somewhere I have never dreamt_

_Of darker seas stretching into darker skies,_

_Drowning, drifting, descending_

_Like the touch of your eyes which easily uncloses me…_

_Like snow that cannot be seen because it is too near…_

_Your unspoken words calm my truths_

_Just as your breathless fingers undress my soul_

_Somewhere the sound of rain seems deeper than your whispers…_

_Nothing, not even the scattered moon or the shattered stars_

_Can make your light dimmer or less true._

 

- **M.L.R.** , “Somewhere here again” from **_Mikurio: Rain, Stars, and Poetry_** , vol. 1,

also in **_Recollections: Journeys of a Shepherd Companion_** , chap. XV

 

**o)------------o))O((o------------(o**

 

 

_How do you defy gravity in the middle of a fall?_

_If life were a simple game of soccer, would love feel like scoring a goal from the center field with a single shot?_

_How do you start a kiss with your eyes closed?_

 

Sorey didn’t know the answers and would have died without caring as his lips met those lips that he had imagined kissing so many times that he could hardly tell whether the moment was real or just part of a twisted fantasy.

But as the wetness and the warmth suffused him with all the emotions his heart could summon in one breath, Sorey had never felt more certain of anything in his life. This is real…

Real enough to be tasted, to be relished, to be breathed in like air…

Real enough to be remembered with all the aches, the frustrations and the longings that filled so many lonely days and nights without this presence that moves his soul as does a storm, a tempest that rages over a deep, wide ocean…

So this is what it feels like… a kiss that makes every inch of your skin throb and burn, that makes you quiver to the tips of your fingers and toes and melts your knees so that even standing becomes a feat, as if every part of you has finally dissolved and nothing remains but the feeling of wanting more, of merging with the heat that is taking over your mind and soul…

And Sorey Sheppard has never known what it really feels like to want something so bad it hurts... not until this very moment.

As his fingers curled around Mikleo’s nape, as his fingers grazed that warm skin that gracefully curved down Mikleo’s neck to the elegant collarbone that always called his attention even if it was often barely shown, Sorey realized that this is what it feels like… this is exactly what all those love songs mean when they talk about wanting and needing someone to the point that you can feel your heart and soul break into little pieces with every fevered touch, with every little breath that pulls you deeper into the kiss that you wish could last forever…

Sorey’s heart was beating fast, like there was a stampede of wild stallions in his chest, but it didn’t stop him from moving inside Mikleo’s mouth, from taking his chin between fingertips and tasting everything in him that his tongue could reach.

From the corner of his mind, Sorey thought that the kiss was too wet, a little sloppy. But it was his first time, and so he couldn’t help but languish in the moment, thinking how everything his tongue touched seemed deliciously sweet. Since Mikleo let his mouth be explored, Sorey did not hesitate to let his tongue probe it gently, curiously, warming everything it touched, savoring everything it tasted. Then Sorey pulled away from Mikleo and with languid eyes, caught his hand in his.

He walked backwards, not letting his eyes leave Mikleo’s face which stared back at him as if in a trance. Keeping Mikleo’s hand in his, he gently tugged him back through the glass doors and toward the bed…

For a minute, Mikleo’s eyes hovered over the expanse of pristine white that loomed behind Sorey. But Sorey didn’t let it become more than a temporary distraction as with a single step, he sealed the aching gap between their bodies by reaching out to touch Mikleo’s face by the cheek, running his trembling fingers along the delicate, sloping angle of his chin and his neck before bending down to kiss him again.

When he paused in the kiss to catch his breath, Sorey let his other hand travel to Mikleo’s waist and, catching the hem of his shirt, pulled it with a swift motion over his head.

As Mikleo’s eyes widened at the realization that he was standing half-naked, so exposed in front of Sorey for the first time, Sorey stepped back a little and pulled off the black shirt he has just worn after his bath, tossing it on the carpet right next to where Mikleo’s shirt lay in a puddle. Then he closed the gap between their bodies again by taking Mikleo’s chin between his fingertips. Mikleo gasped as this time, instead of meeting his mouth, Sorey bent down and started kissing Mikleo’s nape, letting his tongue trail over the sensitive skin that was slowly heating beneath his wet lips, his bated breath.

Mikleo caught his breath in his throat and Sorey couldn’t help but quiver in response. The way Mikleo’s body was subtly responding to his motions was driving, pushing his need further, making that pulsating ache beneath him harder and harder…

Mikleo let himself be pushed onto the bed as Sorey sprawled on top of him, adjusting the knot on his waist.

Mikleo felt his chest hurt with the force of his heartbeat as he immediately guessed what those quivering fingers wanted to do. Sorey did not look away but kept his emerald eyes on Mikleo as his hand lingered on the waist of his white gym shorts, which, to Mikleo’s strange relief, was knotted tightly and did not give in to Sorey’s pulling just yet.

As for Mikleo, well, he wanted to look away, wanted to hide his flushed face, to summon all the shock in his nerves to want to push Sorey away. But tried as he might he couldn’t resist the pull of those summer-green eyes, that spring glade and sunshine that shimmered with a mesmerizing radiance Mikleo had never seen before…

Besides, it was the first time he had seen Sorey this close, half-naked, and though it was embarrassing to admire the stark nudity of his upper torso, Mikleo couldn’t help but feel a nervous attraction toward it. Even if he tried looking for a flaw, there was nothing to criticize. Sorey’s chest muscles lacked nothing to be desired. They were as well-toned and firm as anyone else might imagine them to be under his shirt, under that sweaty soccer uniform that so many of his fans had seen him in, no doubt relishing the fantasy that only Mikleo could confirm with his very eyes as of this moment…

Sorey pulled back abruptly and for a second, Mikleo saw his eyes hesitating, as if something in himself was in conflict with what he was about to say.

“Mikleo… you’re not going to regret anything, are you?”

Mikleo blinked back, his thoughts seeming to be lost in a cloudy haze, in a dark mist of irrepressible shadows. He closed his eyes and opened them again as if to make sure this was no dream. And because there was that question that needed an answer.

“I don’t know, Sorey...”

That wasn’t the answer Sorey needed to hear, no doubt. In fact, it doesn’t answer anything; it was just as hazy and murky and cloudy as those thoughts in the corners of his mind that seemed to be drifting farther and farther away from reason every second.

Sorey blinked back with a worried look, as if caution had hit him for the first time in the face. It was clear that he was measuring what Mikleo said carefully, trying to decide what to say or to do next after being rudely shoved into the corners of ambiguity. Mikleo looked away, knowing how shameful it was to impose something so underhandedly. He knew that by professing uncertainty, he was letting Sorey take full responsibility for what was about to happen next, which included all the blame and other negative repercussions if there were to be any. And to think that nothing—nothing has ever prepared both of them for something like this.

Who could imagine he and Sorey would ever come to this point of doing the unthinkable right after they’ve just met? But that was exactly what might have triggered both of them… this unspoken attraction for each other that cannot be replaced by friendly conversations or heated debates… all those stolen glimpses, those breathless smiles, those quiet gazes that spoke louder than words.

It seemed that all along they knew that their minds and bodies craved for more, and that everything they had been doing so far, had been nothing more than subconscious foreplay… nothing more than teasing that attraction out of their skin and into the open where it could be confronted without needless pretension.

Sorey must be having the same thoughts. But unlike Mikleo, he was not the kind who could stand still and brood over things like that. With a gentleness that, to Mikleo, felt like feathers grazing his skin, Sorey reached out for Mikleo’s hand and brought it to his lips. Mikleo shivered, watching his smile tremble in the kiss that seemed protective, nervous, thoughtful, yet full of desperate and stubborn yearning. Just watching those emotions quiver in Sorey’s innocent face, Mikleo felt every part of him become hopelessly enervated, as he began to realize how that same innocence was weakening him, drawing him toward Sorey in the same way that gravity pulls anything toward its center. And, strangely, that innocent purity lingered in every way Sorey looked, as if no heat, no passion could ever stain or diminish it…

Sorey’s lips quivered slightly, languid eyes taking in all of Mikleo, wanting him to know how much he had waited for this…

Mikleo watched those rich, emerald-green eyes shimmer with want and longing, enough to make his own body want to take all of that heated, urgent desire inside of him… to imagine Sorey thrusting all that want and longing deeply into his center…

The thought made Mikleo blush furiously. Take Sorey inside of him? _H-how?_ Even his mind couldn’t help stuttering at the shocking question.

Sorey saw the blush, the panicked look, but couldn’t help being turned on by it as his own desire responded with a swelling heat.

“Mikleo, I—you must think I’m a lowlife to do something like this… But I really, _really_ like you and—and—to be honest I really want to get to know you more… It’s just that…” Sorey’s emerald eyes glinted with a frightening certainty. “I don’t see any reason why _not_ knowing you enough is a problem… I mean, this sounds awfully weird, but I think there isn’t anything you can say or do—anything at all—that can make me _not_ like you."

Mikleo didn't want to spoil the romantic mood, but his logical side was more persuasive. "Sorey, you _must_ know that ideological compatibility is an important factor, and even if there's such a thing as maximum tolerance in relationships, everyone has his threshold-"

Sorey's frown looked impatient rather than angry, cutting through the quagmire of Mikleo's hypothetical what-ifs. "Well, if I'd be honest about it, there are big things and little things that can hurt me, it’s not like I’m an unfeeling rock, but I don’t think any of that is enough to change what I feel. What I mean is..."

Sorey gave Mikleo a look that seemed as stubbornly certain and resolved as Mikleo's painful theories. "I just hope you trust me enough not to believe all those rumors about me—like I switch girlfriends every week or... or I... I do a lot of stupid things during dates including uh, perverted, horny stuff like uh, never mind!  And... and… gods, some even think I keep tabs on my conquests! Sure, there isn't anything that could keep me from doing those things, but I never even considered liking anybody else as some red-button option out there. Even if there's nothing to stop me, I can't-won't... what I mean is..."

Sorey's determination seemed almost too painful to watch and his frustration even more so. "I swear none of the things you already believe about me is true, and I can prove it if that’s what it takes—”

Mikleo lifted his back from the bed by using his elbow for support and shook his head at Sorey. “Look, this really feels kinda awkward… I mean, it’s not like you owe me the truth about yourself, or I’m expecting some kind of a serious confe—no, what I mean is—”  

Sorey leaned down on impulse, and Mikleo had to draw back to keep their noses from brushing. But just the same, Sorey’s heaving chest ended up touching his, his heartbeat almost tangible with it being so close.

Sorey’s green eyes smoldered. “But I AM confessing, Mikleo! I know I don’t deserve someone like you and maybe—maybe that’s the reason I’m explaining myself this much! 'Cause even if you don't trust me just yet, I don't want you to think of me as some perv... or someone who's just dying to get laid or to try something new! I don't really care what people say about me... But I want you to know I’m not like that-I'm not a player and I've never been intimate with anyone else...”

Sorey brushed his lips against Mikleo’s ear, and the sensual feel of his breath blowing against that sensitive part of him almost made Mikleo’s eyes close as if begging for a kiss… For a second, Mikleo knew that’s what he wanted… he wanted Sorey to make his skin heat up the way he just did.

Sorey fought down the urge to put more pressure into the light caress, to let his lips trail wet kisses along that creamy smoothness until they’re warm and sore with need. His eyes grew languid just imagining it as he kept his gaze on the lavender eyes that fluttered nervously at him. “Mikleo, I’m sure wanting you… wanting to do things with you intimately… they’re _not_ everything I feel about you, even if I can’t deny that it’s a big part of what I feel. I’m sure even if you reject me or decide to just be friends with me, or maybe even—gods the worst of it is you’re gonna fall in love with someone else..."

Mikleo gave him a cringy expression that almost looked funny. "Wow, aren't you so trusting there, projecting too much of this soon-to-be relationship into a distant future where _I'm_ the one at fault?"

Sorey grinned. "Sorry about that, I'm sure I didn't mean it that way but... I just want you to know... no matter what happens or what you decide, all the feelings I have right now would still be here. I don’t want any of that to ever change just because you didn't choose me...”

He lay next to Mikleo and grinned as he let his back flop onto the pillows carelessly, and Mikleo had to edge away from him to avoid getting crushed. Sorey looked up at the white canopy of the bed and imagined what it would be like if they were lying on a wide open field instead, staring at the sky, imagining funny animal shapes while watching the clouds together. That’s one of the things he would want to do with Mikleo someday, one of those things he wished they could do together for the rest of their lives.

It made him grin a cocky grin, forcing Mikleo to feel a little edgy.

“Uh, for starters, can I have my shirt back please?”

Sorey leaned on his side, and Mikleo could feel every muscle on that evenly toned chest ripple with Sorey’s boyish laughter. “Hey, no fair, I’m not even half done yet!”

Mikleo blushed a furious red, feeling his entire body throb heatedly. “I don’t think I wanna wait for that!”

Sorey edged closer, pulling Mikleo toward him by the waist. “To be honest, I feel like starting right now…”

Mikleo winced, knowing that the raging heat was coming back inside of him—the kind that was making him lose all inhibition in just one breath. Sorey closed his eyes as he leaned closer, letting his hand press Mikleo’s waist down as his mouth moved from Mikleo’s sensuous lips to the curve of his chin and then, lower, down the curve of his neck and the smooth creamy skin on Mikleo’s shoulder.

Everywhere Mikleo felt his skin warming, throbbing, as if encouraging Sorey to deepen every kiss, to explore every part of him with relish. Mikleo felt his heart skip too many beats at once. “S-Sorey, th-that’s enough, really…”

He was surprised when those lips which were beginning to trail very wet kisses down his shoulders stopped mid-way. Sorey heaved a heavy sigh as if to let out all the heated frustration building up in him, then straightened his back to let some distance between their bodies.

He flicked a look at Mikleo and grinned. “Sorry, I do tend to rush things when I’m excited… but know what? I realized honesty isn’t really all that tough—it just feels weird and awkward maybe. Like… if I think about it… it’s sort of ironic how I never really gave confessions much thought. I’ve always assumed girls have it easy… passing notes, telling you they like you so much they’d do anything you want if you’d go out with them. I took all of that for granted like a regular jerk… but now confessing all that much and explaining myself in a crazy sort of way… I swear my heart’s beating so fast I feel like I’ve just outrun an avalance…”

This time he let his gaze rest on Mikleo much longer, only to feel his eyes growing languid again. “So I guess it’s your turn to confess…”

Mikleo stuttered. “W-what do you mean? I don’t even have a crime I should be guilty of, police officer.”

Sorey’s eyes twinkled. “Really now? How about… seduction of a minor?”

Mikleo’s face burned. “Look, Sorey if you thought _that_ was funny—”

He pushed himself off the pillows and covers with an elbow only to be pushed back onto the bed with one swift, insistent kiss…

Sorey was kissing him hard, harder than he did the first time, causing his back to fall heavily back onto the mattress. Mikleo would have fought his way to break that kiss if he didn’t feel something heavy press itself on his thigh, pinning him under Sorey’s weight.

He felt warm lips graze his neck, kissing him there as he felt both hands encircle his waist and tug at the waist of his shorts…

Mikleo squirmed beneath the kiss, even as he felt Sorey’s hands stop, moving elsewhere along his thigh, as if he knew exactly what Mikleo felt when he let his impatience get the better of him, and without any further warning responded quickly to his panic.

But the position to which Sorey’s hand shifted was hardly more comforting as Mikleo felt those same hands cup that part of him that he never thought was just as shamelessly provoked, aroused, and stimulated as Sorey’s.

He tried to suppress it but a moan escaped him, which was immediately covered by Sorey’s kisses. Then he felt Sorey’s hardening urge press against his, as Sorey’s mouth continued to savor the sensitive skin on his collarbone, filling it with feather-like flicks of his tongue that felt almost ticklish.

Mikleo squirmed and Sorey pulled back to gaze at him, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps as his chest heaved above Mikleo.

“You think your mom would forgive me ever?”

Mikleo couldn’t help but look away. “I might have an answer if I start thinking about it…”

Sorey’s heart was drumming in his ears. Part of him was saying he should stop and think about this more while he still possessed enough reserve to do that, but a greater part of him didn’t want to listen to that voice of reason right now… or gave up on it entirely the moment he tasted what it was like to kiss a dream…

Sorey pressed Mikleo down gently, his breathing becoming more irregular with every passing second. “Well then, while you’re thinking about it, I’ll try to be gentle…”

“S-Sorey!!!”

But his protest was drowned by the kiss that Sorey gently, softly bestowed on his wrist, flicking his tongue at it making Mikleo feel ticklish again. Then just as he was about to squirm from the weird sensations Sorey was giving him, he heard a wet, sucking sound followed by a sharp sting that bit into his flesh, making him jerk. He opened his eyes and saw Sorey staring at the pale, sensitive skin there, which was now throbbing with a small, swollen bruise that was turning from deep red to purple.

“Gentle huh?” Mikleo snatched his wrist away, only to encounter resistance as Sorey just as swiftly grabbed it back, and without wasting a single breath put his mouth back onto the aching swell, sucking it as his eyes languidly stayed on Mikleo’s face without the slightest hint of embarrassment.

“Sorey! W-what are you—”

From his wet wrist, Sorey started trailing kisses along his arm, smiling in between kisses as if to tease. Pulling back slightly, he stared at the bluish bruise and grinned, then started kissing it again but this time, putting as little pressure as he could. In fact the lingering kiss was so light and achingly soft, Mikleo swore his knees must be melting beneath him.

Sorey’s smile seemed to quiver with so many unspoken emotions that Mikleo felt scared just watching them ripple in those emerald depths. “Sorry, but this one marks my favorite spot so you never forget you’re mine.”

Mikleo flicked a look at his wet wrist, then at Sorey, then something in the pit of his stomach just gave way to a helpless giggle.

Sorey scrunched up his face at that. “W-what now?”

“That one was real cheesy, you know… like it must be the oldest cliché I’ve ever…”

Whatever he was about to say was left unsaid as Sorey pressed his body and a deep groan escaped him.

“Mikleo… stop teasing all right? I don’t think I’d be able to hold it if you keep at it…”

Mikleo felt the hardness against his thigh and knew Sorey was serious as his hands shifted from the waist of his gym shorts to Mikleo’s own. He seemed to hesitate despite the pressure of his caresses and Mikleo knew that it was a good thing Sorey could maintain some semblance of control in the midst of their passionate kissing. If it were up to him, he would have surrendered so shamelessly, leaving no pride, no dignity to cling to in the future.

As if the future is something anyone ever thinks about in this situation. When Sorey put his mouth on his, Mikleo felt that whatever mistake was happening right now, whatever regrets he may have after this, was not as important as remembering this moment…

Because it was the first of all firsts… the first time he felt good being held like this, being kissed in a way that made him feel like nothing in the world could ever be so wrong or right as the moment of being with the one person who makes you feel like you are his orbit, the only world he could ever gaze upon, the center of his galaxy…

If it didn’t sound so conceited, he would say the center of his universe…

Then Mikleo felt a gentle tugging, nibbling sensation on his chest that was ticklish and arousing, making him bite his lower lip almost to the point of bleeding it.

“S-Sorey…”

If there had been doubts or misgivings lingering in the murky shadows of his mind at that precise moment, they had been banished completely without a trace as Sorey grazed his teeth on one erect bud, kneading it with his lips playfully, before sucking it gently, then with an intensity that made Mikleo moan shamelessly in his ear. Sorey groaned back when he felt Mikleo’s body tense beneath him, but he pulled a little away, enough to let him gaze into Mikleo’s lavender eyes.

“Are you all right with everything? I know you just came from the hospital… I shouldn’t be putting so much strain on you…”

Mikleo felt the prominent bulge on Sorey that was throbbing against his thigh, pressed against it and heating it in a way that was making his own arousal responsive to Sorey’s caresses. Seeing the conflicting emotions in Sorey’s eyes that couldn’t help looking worried and panicked even when there seemed to be as much desire and frustration in them, it was easy for Mikleo to guess that this must be his way of letting him know that if he wanted him to stop before it was too late, then this would be the last chance for him to do just that…

And Mikleo knows that whatever Sorey must feel at the moment he _will_ set aside if that's what he wanted, if he showed even the slightest fear or hesitation about what Sorey has in mind to do next…

To be shamelessly honest, Mikleo knew that right this moment, he wanted Sorey just as much… but if he were to think of those things that mattered, Sheppard being what he is, as opposed to everything that Mikleo believed and stood for, the answer would be easy and just as tough. Because just like in the world of tests and exams, right answers never sounded right in the first place…

Like the answers to the questions of the heart—or the soul…

He reached up to touch Sorey’s cheek, and as soon as he did, those emerald eyes widened at him, softly shimmering, misting, like he has just done something so utterly tender and unforgettable…

Something so adorably heartfelt that even someone as tough and confident and carefree as Sheppard seemed… so... moved...

“Sorey… you know how crazy this is, right? I know it too, so I guess we should both stop… if that’s what we think of this…”

Sorey grasped the hand on his cheek. “When you say it like that, I feel like lying is so much tougher than telling the truth…” And with that, Sorey bent down, caught Mikleo’s wrist in his mouth and started kissing it tenderly.

“I'm sure I loved you from the start so I'm hopelessly like this."

Mikleo couldn’t believe what he had just heard. _L-love?_ Even his mind was stuttering just saying that one-syllable forbidden word. How could anyone be so certain of _that_ in a heated, passionate, physical moment like this?

But it sounds so good doesn't it? It sounds so romantic, so heart-melting... It might seem sappy, mushy, and unbelievably cheesy, but still… is there anyone who wouldn't want to be loved like this?

Then again, if love is so shamelessly perfect, how come...

For a brief second, Mikleo wondered why he could never say it out loud, even with Sheppard holding him close… even with someone as brilliant and radiant as a nova was offering him that emotion like a gift meant only for him…

But then again, maybe Sorey is right.

Lying can be so much tougher than telling the truth. Because right now it seemed harder not to say it, harder to hold back those feelings that make him want to respond to Sorey’s sincerity. He knew that if he had the guts right now to throw all caution to the wind, if he could be honest without having to worry about his pride, his heart would want to say it too… And even if there’s no reason or logic to make the reality of falling in love with someone he hardly knew more acceptable than believing in ghosts and demons, or in heaven and hell… even if love were nothing but an idea held together by faith and prayers… wouldn’t it be worth saving that tiny flicker of hope called _love_ for that one special person who gives it so unselfishly… to that same person who's willing to work hard to deserve it?

Wouldn’t it be worth saying that word to someone who gives you a reason to smile, who knows what you needed to hear and says it with that overflowing warmth that fills you to the brim?

“Mikleo?”

Sorey shifts his position, rolling onto his back on the bed as his arm gently pulls Mikleo with him. Mikleo gasps as he ends up straddling Sorey’s torso, both legs now sprawled onto the sides of his hips, like he was riding him…

Seeing himself in that scandalous position and imagining what must be going on in Sorey’s mind were enough to make Mikleo blush so hard he could feel every inch of his skin burn with a scorching heat.

“S-Sorey!!!”

Sorey simply grinned back at his panicked voice, eyes growing languid as his hands moved to Mikleo’s waist to keep him in place. Something in him quivered with excitement and embarrassment as Mikleo felt both of their needs meeting in that awkward, yet sensual, position he never even imagined possible…

Because he never bothered to know about these things, and that is not to say that virginity is an excuse for ignorance.

He could feel Sorey’s muscles tensing beneath him as his languid green eyes smoldered into his.

“Just like this, you’d have more control over me, Mikleo… like you could push me away or—well, hope not—even kick me if I do anything stupid or if you think I’m taking things farther than we’re both ready for… because the last thing I want is for you to do it with me just because this lowlife wants you to…”

With that, Mikleo felt Sorey hold him firmly by the waist and with easing slowness move him up and down his hip, letting their arousal touch through the fabric, which barely kept the swelling heat and the hardening urges from being felt just the same…

A deep groan escaped Sorey as Mikleo’s body moved in synchrony with his hands. Mikleo could only stare at the hard muscles showing themselves through the effort and the strain that made Sorey’s abdomen hard and tense beneath him, stimulating him in ways he could never deny.

Sorey’s right hand moved up Mikleo’s chest, caressing his heated skin, even as he kept his left on Mikleo’s waist, pushing him faster and faster…

Mikleo felt like he was going to explode and wasn’t aware that his hands had eased themselves around Sorey’s neck as his body understood the rhythm of this provocative dance that was quickening their urges, making their heated peaks swell in shameless quivers. As if by instinct, Mikleo started to brace himself by pushing his fingers up around Sorey’s nape, one hand weaving its fingers into his hair as he felt his body grow rigid for the final push, the absolute fall into the welter of heat and sweat that made their urges impossible to hold in…

Sorey was beginning to lose it, his grip on Mikleo’s waist so tight that the skin had began to burn and swell as he groaned Mikleo’s name hoarsely, desperately, his hand easing the knot on his waistband to reach for his burning, raging manhood…

But if there are such things as cosmic irony as great literature says there should, this must be the worst way of finding out it exists... a case of fact imitating fiction.

So Sorey’s phone hummed and vibrated insistently, left as it is on the side table next to the bed.

Mikleo opens his eyes and suddenly the reality of the moment sinks in.

He was making love with Sorey Sheppard, that playboy, celebrity idol who, until a week ago, he hardly even knew and didn’t even care to know.

He was in someone’s bedroom doing something his mom would never even imagine he was capable of, even if he confessed it himself.

He was supposed to be Sorey Sheppard’s tutor, not his one-night-stand… not a stupid fanboy who’d let the stunning idol toy with his weakness… not a geeky, romantic nerd who wants to know what happens the moment he stops using his overworked brain…

He fell for it and fell really hard. Far worse than any of Sheppard’s fans, Mikleo Luzrov Rulay, president of the highest student body, allowed himself to be dragged so easily into Sorey’s bed, to become another notch on his bedpost, to be the idiot he could laugh about and ridicule for as long as he lives.

Sorey’s hand reaching out to him interrupted all these random thoughts that were quickly crushing Mikleo, killing his mind it seemed with every heartbeat. But Mikleo’s instincts were hurt, making him pull away more harshly than he wanted to, forcing Sorey to lose his grip on the cellphone as he tried to hold Mikleo back with his other hand. As it is, Sorey was forced to reach down the bed to grab his cellphone before it could fall with a thud on the floor. Even from the corner of his eye, Mikleo couldn’t help catching the worried look Sorey flicked his way before answering his phone.

“Uh, right, we’re both in my—uhh—room right now… What do you mean in ten minutes? Alisha? I don’t remember her saying anything about dinner… And Rose? Uh, Lailah, you didn’t invite them over for fun did you?”

Mikleo saw Sorey’s emerald eyes flash with a harsh, metallic glint as he seemed to ponder what was being said to him. Looking at Mikleo, those fiery eyes lost their glint and receded back into the same cool, summer green that reminded Mikleo of the colors of spring and summer…

Sorey breathed into the phone with an audible sigh, as if forcing himself to let his frustration subside. “Right, sorry if I sounded a little upset… It’s just that… I don’t feel like seeing anyone else right now… Nah, Mikleo and I would be coming down for dinner, don’t worry… Uh, right, we did skip lunch, right? Uh, let me just ask him all right?”

Mikleo’s eyes widened as Sorey gave him a lopsided, doofus smile. For a second Mikleo thought how natural it felt to be like this with Sorey even after doing something so private and intimate… how nothing between them seems to have changed at all… like nothing should change because nothing ever could…

And no matter how many hateful thoughts he could come up with to satisfy his need to be rational, one smile, one look of kindness and concern from Sorey is all it takes for all that negativity to melt away…

“So Mikleo, what do you want for dinner? They’ll have it ready in ten minutes. We didn’t have lunch so you must be hungry… I mean, I insist that you’re hungry... Besides, putting on a little more weight won't make you less perfect.”

"Shut up, I'm thinking."

But if he would have to be completely honest, he couldn't really think of an answer with Sorey's languid stare boring through his soul, becoming an annoying yet irresistible distraction. Even when he tried to concentrate on the question he could sense the heat coming back with a vengeance even if they were just looking at each other…

“Uh, I give up, anything you like is fine, I guess.”

Sorey took the moment that he was distracted to grab him by the waist and pull him closer. “You probably have an idea what I want—and it’s not even something I can eat and share with everyone…”

Sorey closed his eyes and began to graze his teeth on the soft, creamy, white skin on Mikleo’s shoulder, making Mikleo shiver with the heat that was returning to his groin, making that part of him so alive and awake as before. All those angry thoughts completely vanished beneath the scorching glare of those emerald eyes which were gazing at him in-between kisses, watching him quiver with every flick of the tongue, with every kiss that tried to soothe the soft, red marks that began to mar Mikleo’s sweet, porcelain-smooth skin…

Just as he had thought, his desire has been completely awakened, making his heart race, his breathing ragged and uneven, torn between desperation and control.

“S-stop… S-Sorey, h-hey… I mean it… s-stop…”

But Sorey was relentless, kissing him on the neck and letting his tongue trail kisses from there to the two pink little buds that were swelling with need, as if demanding as much attention from Sorey’s lips as those other parts of him that were blushing with every heated contact.

“Uh, S-Sorey… M-Mikleo… are you both uhh… okay?”

Sorey giggled against Mikleo’s skin. He had forgotten about Lailah…

He took a deep breath and dived for Mikleo's bottom lip, which he relished with a slow, lingering kiss as he retrieved his cellphone from the side of the bed. “Uh, sorry about that, we’re fine, of course!” Sorey was somehow giddy and happy so suddenly that Lailah couldn’t help stuttering a little too awkwardly and nervously.

“Uhh, Sorey… uhh… am… am I interrupting anything? Uh… if you and Mikleo are busy… I mean—oh dear, gosh, my manners…”

Sorey giggled and Mikleo had to elbow him on the rib to shush him.

“Lailah, no worries all right, it’s just that Mikleo’s taking too long to make up his mind… So… what would it be?”

Before Mikleo could push his face away, Sorey had already grabbed Mikleo’s wrist and was sucking it wetly even as his other hand muted the volume of his cellphone.

“H-hey, I said enough Sorey! Uh, all right, uh, steak! Uh, maybe steak is fine?”

"Perfect!" Sorey chuckled. “To be honest, I'd rather have meat too!" Then going back to Lailah, Sorey spoke a little more loudly. "Uh, Lailah we're both having steak, but mind if I call you back to confirm that? You see, Mikleo's giving me some... uh... lessons... right now.”

"Uh, sure, Sorey." Lailah's cheerful voice almost seemed relieved. "Mikleo sure takes his job seriously to be starting this early." 

Mikleo’s face burned at that, and his hand acted on impulse just seconds after Sorey turned off his cellphone.

He punched Sorey on the chest. “Shut up and behave all right? Sheesh… you joke like that again and I swear I’d hit you so hard you’d bleed…”

Sorey’s eyes suddenly became an intense, fiery emerald that was almost frightening, as if all the desire in his body had been provoked all at once as he caught Mikleo's fist and held onto it. “Know what? I would be lying if I tell you that I've had so many intimate experiences before that I know exactly what to do right now... or how to make you feel so good you'd ask for it again and again..."

Mikleo felt his face burning. "Right. Expect guys to think about sex every six seconds, huh?"

Sorey gave a nervous laugh. "Can't deny that, actually... and I'm not gonna be a hypocrite and say I'm a clueless virgin either! I mean, I may not have done this before, but I do try to find out about things... and I can tell the first time might hurt a little… And maybe I should wait until you’re ready 'cause if you think about it, college couldn't be that far from now, is it? I mean, just imagine us moving in the same apartment, Mikleo, and sleeping together every night doing things like this every day and—”

Mikleo elbowed his rib. “In your dreams, Sorey! What made you think we'd go that far or even last that long? I mean with you being so..."

Sorey pressed his lips on Mikleo's mouth as if it was the only way he could keep him from saying more. "Me being so irresistible? I swear I'll turn down every guy or girl who tries to steal me away from you."

Mikleo tried not to succumb to the conceited humor in that. "Yeah, well, or I could just charge them for every date or every hour of your attention."

Sorey's lips twitched. "As if I'd let you give me away! And there's no way you can run away from me either..."

Mikleo squinted back a look of protest. "Hey, just a while ago you said it's perfectly fine if I didn't choose you!"

"I said my feelings aren't gonna change even if so. That's entirely different."

"Huh?"

"You can be with someone else, but I can't guarantee his safety."

"What?" Mikleo quirked an eyebrow. "That sounds illegal, don't you think?"

"Is being horny illegal too?"

"Don't change the subject! Besides," Mikleo hissed, "what made you think I'd settle for being your roommate?"

"Amazing sex? And an idiot who'd look up to you like you're the only star up there?"   

Mikleo pushed him away with a glare that tried-but-failed to hide a fair amount of embarrassment. "Even if living with you may become a convenient option in the future, it's not like I'd give in to your every whim!"

Sorey looked seriously shocked. "Uh, am I _that_ bad at it?" 

"It's not that, sheesh..." Mikleo huffed with exasperation. "Just imagine if we keep doing it every night, we’ll never get some sleep at all!"

"Oh yeah?" Sorey was chuckling. "So I'm good... that's a relief!"

Mikleo groaned. "That's not the point, idiot! It's just that, the things you say... they're certainly _not_ the type of _college_ _plan_ I had in mind or the kind you'd share with someone you’ve just met!"

"I would," Sorey chuckled again, leaning in for a kiss. "I feel like I’ve known you all my life Mikleo, and saying those things just feels right because it's you.”

Mikleo felt his ears steaming as Sorey punctuated that with a kiss before leaping away from his punch and turning on his cellphone to speak with Lailah.

“Uh, Lailah? I guess we'll do have steak and some salad… I think Mikleo prefers well done, and that goes for me too. And milkshakes, of course, `cause Mikleo can’t have coffee, he really needs to sleep tonight… Uh, before I forget, Mrs. Rulay asked if Mikleo could stay for the night so that means he’s sleeping over… Maybe some refreshments after dinner is all right… but I like to prepare that myself so there's no need to bother... uh, then again, you might wanna let Mikleo try some of your homemade pretzels, they're really good!”

Mikleo heard Lailah say “that would be wonderful” a little embarrassingly, Sorey replying with a chuckling “thanks and bye” before finally turning off his cellphone and pushing it under the bed.

Then Sorey turned all of his attention to Mikleo.

He couldn’t miss it—that mischievous look, that playful smile… Mikleo swore even if he had a heart of stone it would crack open and melt into sand with the way Sorey is looking at him right now.

Mikleo watched Sorey ease himself next to him. But if he had thought that Sorey was just going to lean closer for a kiss, he was rudely mistaken.

Sorey grabbed him by the waist and pushed him back onto the pillows, grinning slightly as he returned his attention on the swollen buds that were turning him on so much so he could not help but ease one after the other in his mouth, sucking it playfully, teasing the skin to swell even more.

Mikleo felt his desire quiver violently between his thighs, making him suddenly self-conscious about Sorey’s body—every inch of those hard, toned abdominal muscles—pressing so intimately against him.

“Hey, I—I thought we should be getting r-ready for dinner…”

Sorey gave him a muffled groan as he sucked one bud with relish, rolling it between his lips playfully.

“H-hey, th-that—that’s starting to feel weird right now… S-Sorey!”

Sorey was ignoring him, as his hand slipped inside Mikleo’s waistband and cupped something there that betrayed all of Mikleo’s hesitation and reserve, as that hidden desire swelled even more, hardening at the moment Sorey’s fingers grazed it.

“G-gods… s-stop that! S-Sorey!!!”

He grinned in between panting breaths. “We don’t have time Mikleo… besides, I promise to let you sleep tonight…”

"Gods, should I even thank you for that?"

Sorey smiled knowingly. "Let me just take care of it."

With a swift movement, Sorey’s hand grabbed Mikleo by the waist and completely tugged off whatever remained of Mikleo’s undergarments. Mikleo’s immediate reaction was to flinch away in shock, to pull the sheets toward him to hide his shameless nudity but with Sorey pulling him by the wrist and catching his lips with his hungry mouth, there was little he could do but helplessly groan as gentle fingers massaged his urges, circling the tip of his erection with feather-light flickers. Then as if that wasn’t enough, Sorey’s hands opened him wide, scissor-like so that his thighs ended up shamelessly sprawled on each side of Sorey’s hips. Caressing the sensitive skin beneath his legs, Sorey smiled with half-lidded eyes, as if telling Mikleo that he was almost over the edge… Then with a deep groan, Sorey slid in between Mikleos’ legs, pressing his hardened urges on Mikleo’s own.

Rubbing against Sorey like this was shocking, exciting, insanely frightening, but with Sorey staring at him like that, taking all of him in with those shimmering emerald pools of emotion, Mikleo found himself wanting the fear, helplessly submitting to Sorey’s breathless demands. When he looked away, Sorey quickly turned his chin up to him and kissed him deeply, probing the insides of Mikleo’s mouth with his tongue, making him sloppily wet and sticky all over—on his swollen lips, in his mouth, and down that naked, hardening need of his as Sorey’s fingers relentlessly caressed him there—something that Mikleo found strangely funny and sensual, even if it were just a wee bit awkward.

Just like first love…

But those thoughts receded into the shadows as Sorey withdrew his fingers, shifted his body and pressed down on Mikleo more urgently, going faster and faster, up and down those lithe hips, as Sorey felt his cock becoming harder than ever through the fabric of his gym shorts.

That piece of clothing was the only thing that kept Sorey from going all the way… not that it was really a serious obstacle. What was really making the temptation impossible to decline was the sight of all that creamy skin. Mikleo's porcelain smoothness was making his hard, swelling cock desperate for release, making him groan shamelessly into Mikleo’s ear.

Sorey had a second to work through the haze in his mind. If things were like this every time they're alone together, he wondered if he'd have enough reserve or self-control left to keep him from taking Mikleo completely every chance he gets.

To admit that he has this insatiable hunger waking inside of him... a beast that wants to feed for the sheer pleasure of it.

He kissed Mikleo as he pushed himself away before his hardness could completely insist on something Mikleo wasn't ready for. Flustered and blushing like hell, Mikleo grabbed a blanket to cover himself as Sorey watched him through half-lidded eyes, which were a striking contrast to the cocky and annoyingly confident smile dancing on his lips.

"Sheesh, if you're planning to make a victory speech to embarrass me...”

Sorey exhaled with deep, panting breaths, then rubbed the back of his head with a doofus smile. “You’re really beautiful, Mikleo, don’t you know? No wonder even other guys notice you…”

Mikleo looked really flustered now. “Look, in case you’ve forgotten, you’re the school’s official Mr. Popularity, not me …”

“Nah, you should hear how the guys on my team joke in the showers… I doubt if they're aware that they have a crush on you, sort of... It's not that I can blame them, though. I mean, you’re not just pretty as almost every girl is pretty. You’re really beautiful…”

Sorey leaned closer and brushed his lips against Mikleo’s. He wanted to deepen the kiss, appreciating how sensuous those swollen lips were, which tasted so sweet to him right now, but a furious poke on his chest made him pull away.

“H-hey, stop making up stories like that!”

“Nah, don't worry, if it bothers you all that much, I'll tell them to stop."

"Sounds easy enough."

"I'll tell them my tutor deserves all the respect he needs… Besides, I hate other guys talking about you or giving you special attention. I get jealous quickly enough.”

"Right," Mikleo huffed, lifting his chin away, unaware that the awkward blush was hopelessly turning on Sorey even when there was nothing romantic about the mood or the genuinely angry glares he was throwing Sorey's way. “I really feel the _respect_ right now, thanks to you! Never knew you’ve got a mean streak in you, though.”

Sorey inched toward him and let a finger trail the length of Mikleo’s creamy smooth skin, starting with the tip of his toes to his thigh.

Mikleo’s breathing hitched as Sorey slowly crawled up to him, leaning forward as if for a kiss. Impulsively, Mikleo pulled back, hugging the pillow tighter as his groin started calling his attention to how his own heat was beginning to throb and swell shamelessly, aching to be touched, to be more intimate.

Mikleo folded his legs until only one knee was barely showing. “I swear I’m gonna kick you if you go any farther than that!”

Sorey laughed, kissing the soft skin of that knee peeking through the pillow quickly before Mikleo could hide it.

“Fine, I’d probably need to shower again to get this heat off me. Would you like to join me?”

“Shut up.” Mikleo’s face was a furious red.

“All right, I’d go first if you don’t mind… since I seem to need it more than you, I mean… uh… it’s really so sticky right now…”

“Shut up and go!” Mikleo blushed even harder, looking away as Sorey chuckled one more time. But just as he thought Sorey was going to get up, he felt Sorey’s hand latch onto his wrist and with the lightest flicker of his tongue brushed it wet before pressing his lips on it. “I’d be right back, porcelain beauty, so don’t go anywhere without me all right?”

Mikleo’s ears steamed. “I thought we agreed you won’t call me that!”

Sorey stood up before Mikleo could kick him out of the bed. “Uh, you can always try and make me stop, sweet Mikleo…”

“Stop! It’s getting even worse, sheesh... Really, I’m gonna die of your cheesy lines, Sorey!”

His protest was met by a boyish giggle that was so full of warmth, Mikleo couldn’t hold his frown for very long. “I love you, Mikleo. Is that something you’d let me say over and over without cringing? I mean it’s cheesy I know, but honestly, I think _‘I love you’_ is always nicer to hear…”

Mikleo stared at him wordlessly, then looked away. “Sorey, it’s too soon to say something like that…”

“Not for me, not ever!” Sorey’s voice was insistent, his face flushed. Mikleo almost felt scared contradicting him right there and then, seeing that those green eyes seemed about ready to spark like warning flares, hovering between stubborn and intense. 

“Seriously, I don't think time has anything to do with the truth, Mikleo! Some truths stay the same no matter how much time you waste thinking about them… just like what I feel for you right now… and that’s why I won’t let anything change it ever, I swear… whether you believe me or not…”

Then with a sigh he walks back to the bed and flicks a finger across Mikleo’s pink cheeks. He loves the way different shades of crimson wash over Mikleo’s face, loves the way his skin quivers with breathtaking softness, loves the play of mixed feelings in those lavender eyes that he would always, definitely, fall for…

Like the way he's falling for him now as his heat returns with a force, filling him with an urgent need to release that pressure that has been building up inside him from the very beginning, long before these fervent touches and heated kisses… And as he caught Mikleo’s swollen lips in a passionate kiss, Mikleo felt a hand yank the pillow off him, exposing him completely... felt that same hand press his arms behind him as another spread his legs far apart.

As Sorey took a moment to take in that smooth white body so sensually naked, so temptingly defenseless beneath him, he felt his chest hurt as if his body desperately needed to do something more... to sink itself and thrust that burning need right where it wants to be...

But Mikleo kicked him hard on the rib. A little too hard in fact that Sorey coughed in the middle of his ragged breathing. “Look, Sorey, everyone's practically waiting for us to show up, and that includes _your_ guests waiting downstairs.”

Sorey rubbed the back of his head guiltily, though his eyes were still languid with all those relentless intimate feelings that he had almost lost control of if Mikleo had not broken their contact with that violent stratagem of his. In a way, he appreciates it that Mikleo seems a lot stronger than he looks—with a greater sense of self-control than him too.

“All right, I’m going! To be honest, I never thought this could be so hard… I mean I’m kinda… _hard_ … Though that kick was awfully _harder_ than I expected!”

Mikleo was livid. “Sorey, if you’re _not_ gonna shut up, I'm going home right this minute even if I have to climb down that balcony!”

Laughing, he walked hurriedly to the bathroom, then looked over his shoulder at Mikleo. He can’t help feeling so light and happy that it almost seems as if nothing today can ever be less than perfect for him... and he wants more than ever to share with Mikleo all of these emotions… all the beautiful and wonderful things that can happen to him, that will become part of _their_ lives from here on…

Mikleo felt him staring. “Sorey?”

“Mikleo, stay with me tonight, all right? I promise I’d behave like a monk in a holy temple and keep my hands off you for the rest of the evening. Please?”

Mikleo looked at him wearily, yawning half-way through the nod, though the mention of monks and temples was a bit exaggerated, making him smile. “Fine, just make sure you keep your word. Because I don’t want to have to kick you again.”

Sorey smiles with that same radiant shine before heading to the bathroom and closing the door behind him with a click. The room began to be quiet save for the sound of water running from the shower.

As the heat beneath him slowly started to subside, Mikleo wondered if his life would ever be normal again… especially now that no matter what he might have thought of the celebrity hottie and ace athlete, his heart couldn’t lie…

Things are starting to change.

He is falling for a distraction, and his name is Sorey.

 

**o-----)O(-----o**

 

The sound of trickling water on rock and limestone coursing along the cones of stalactites above filled the dimly-lighted caverns with hollow echoes. Somewhere within the depths of ruins and rubble that lead from its circuitous tunnels one might also catch hushed grating sounds of tiny feet, of nervous wings flitting through the shadows and reverberating through the eerie silence of wind and water slipping through the cracks of the dome-like ceilings and rugged walls that make up most of Camoria’s caves. In the dark corners, lizards and giant beetles scuttle away, desperate to avoid the light of torches casting faint flickers on the walls while bats flew from one yawning fissure to the next in the hope of evading what appears to be an unwelcome intrusion.

“These markings are nothing like I’ve seen before,” Sorey whispered to no one in particular though it seemed obvious that someone must have heard him, since a shadow leaned closer toward his shoulder seeming to be more interested in following his gaze rather than following the logic of that train of thought.

The torch in Sorey’s grasp gave a muttered sizzle, as the moisture seemed to get thicker around them.

Sorey bent a little lower closer to the wall as the fringes of a shadow touched the corners of his vision. He would have flinched at the slightest movement of a presence nearby if it were someone unexpected but as habit grows on people, he didn’t. Still holding the flickering torch a little above his head, he stood up and casually surveyed the opposite side with the dancing light of the smoldering flames as his only guide. As something caught his attention, he walked three paces toward a smoother expanse of the cave wall, ignoring the clammy, craggy moss-laden surface that met his hand as he scratched some of the earth away. Just as he had expected, the groove he had found before was just the border of a much larger bas relief of which the esoteric inscriptions and markings were a part. Sorey was rather relieved that after hours of searching and surveying the larger caves they’ve found in the deeper parts of the cavern, finally, there was something interesting enough to examine, something that might give him his first clues as to where the Altar of Holies might be.

Sharp, amber eyes followed the movement of his fingertip along lines of inscriptions, flickering with uncertain emotions.

“Master Shepherd…”

Sorey closed his eyes and sighed. “Please Symonne, just calling me _Lord_ is already a little too much…"

"But as Lord Pawan himself would say," Symonne offered in a hushed tone, "old habits die hard, and I do regard you as my Master... ever since _that_ time."

Sorey sighed audibly. "Even so, there’s no urgent reason for you to keep me company when there’s no telling how long it would take me to find what I’m supposed to be looking for. On top of that, the Guild needs your help too. I’m used to travelling alone by now and these ruins are not exactly that difficult to navigate. I still remember how Mik—I mean, I used to come here a lot… awfully a lot… so these caves are no strangers to me.”

“But I do not wish you to be alone…” Symonne answered in a monotone that seemed more neutral than any meaning she could convey. “And I want to help you even if you seem to hate me for what I have done… tampering with your memories…”

Sorey had been trying to forget that. For the past few months—though he surmised that in the other world, a few days had just passed—he did nothing but suppress the guilt and remorse that burdened him whenever he imagined what it would be like if it were really _him_ —if he had shown all those genuine feelings to that one person who meant the world to him when he had the chance to do just that. But even if those thoughts worry him so much, he knew that they were also helpful: the incident gave him something to think about, something that confused but awakened his inner resolve. Those feelings gave him back that hope that he thought had long died. Now that broken vow was renewed inside of him, beating inside of him as strongly as ever, as if giving him new life, as if returning to him a promise that he thought had been unmade in the passing of the centuries.

The hope of saving Glenwood and returning it to what it once was, the hope of merging the Heart of the Malevolence with the Insidion completely and purifying it from within…

All these once broken hopes found its way to him again, giving him renewed strength in the face of the abiding darkness.

And, definitely, that included nothing less than the promise of being able to walk alongside Mikleo again, to explore all the secrets in all the ruins of the world… to see the warmth of that smile again telling Sorey he was loved… for whatever was unspoken between him and Mikleo was only for them to share and to know, in the same way sacred mysteries, prayers and oaths retain their power by being kept hidden in the deepest recesses of the heart and mind, by not being tainted by common knowledge…

And Mikleo was to him more than a sacred mystery, a holy vow…

He is someone he could never share with anyone… or give up to anyone.

It sounded unbelievably selfish, but it was true. As the Insidion ravaged and corrupted everything in its path, Sorey only thought of how to draw its rage and fury away from Mikleo. Wasn’t that the reason he decided to stay behind in this wasted world, so he could keep that terrifying power from coming after the chosen Vessel, from reaching him and hurting him because he houses the secrets to its weakness... because if that weakness ever gains a greater power than the stronghold of evil that is at the core of the Insidion then the Heart may be capable of purifying or sealing away The True Lord and Origin of the Malevolence forever?

Sorey would have to be honest. For now, the idea of ever being able to purify the _Essence of Things Made and Unmade_ , the ultimate _God of Nothingness_ is nothing but a hazy hypothesis. And that is why he is here… after giving up the search for any sign of redemption that has evaded him all these two thousand years, Sorey resumed his interest in the ruins of Glenwood in the hope of finding hope…

In the passing of the centuries he had only wished to chain the Malevolence here with his power and the remaining power of the surviving seraphim such as Lord Ekseo and Lord Uno, among others. During that time, the only thing that kept him going was his will as the former Shepherd, as the last Seraph Guardian that has not yet fallen to the Malevolence. Even then, he lived from one day to the next with the faint desire of keeping his promise to protect the human souls he had sealed in Camlann so when the Innominat awaken, they may be purified or revived if possible…

Beyond that, Sorey was resolved to leave things to fate… to let the seraphim take up the remains of the final battle that will shape the destinies of both the mortal and the immortal realms.

But now, things have changed.

Sorey wanted to live through it all… to see the final battle to its very end.

Because he started to believe again in the dream… that the universe belongs to neither the Insidion nor the Leviathan.

The universe belongs to both humans and seraphim.

The universe belongs to those who have been fated to share one dream, one world, one destiny… just like him and Mikleo.

“Lord Sorey…”

Symonne holds out a leather pouch to him. “I should’ve handed this to you sooner, since it’s what you came here for. You were also right about those ruins… Even though Guild master Ekseo gave the orders I’m sure the idea was inspired by you…”

Sorey gave her a questioning look. “Inspired what?”

“To seek the sacred altar of Galahad. As you’ve predicted, the Shadowlords’ wraith armies did everything to keep anyone from getting anywhere near it, as if there is some secret there that must never be found. We’ve lost more than a hundred seraphel to get every single drop of water that had been sealed in its very depths… I hope it will be of use…”

“Thank you.” He suddenly wished he could say more, but nothing came to mind as he took the pouch and rested it on the palm of his hand. Untying the knot he took out the small, clear vial inside that contained nothing but a few drops of water.

But those drops were nothing ordinary. According to Guild Master Ekseo, the most tainted waters must indeed come from Galahad… and that the taint is, in fact, so thick, so dense, so pervasive, that more than ten drops can corrupt the container itself and allow Malevolence to contaminate anything that touches it in the slightest.

Sorey knew that if the seraphel agents that infiltrated the said ruins had had been less careful, the vial would have leaked, allowing the Malevolence to spread and infect even the soldiers who brought it safely to the Guild’s secret location in Lamorack. But the Guild Master insisted that the risk was well worth it. He could remember Lord Ekseo’s encouraging words:

_“Sorey, you may be right. If we can find the means to purify the waters of Galahad—which used to be the purest source of water even back in the days of the Age of Chaos—then the process can be replicated all over Glenwood. More than that, we might be able to come up with a rare discovery—the elixir of life—that can be released in the water systems surrounding the cities and fortresses overtaken by the Shadowlords. If that elixir can reverse the Malevolence completely… and be permanently resistant to the Malevolence… imagine what victories we might accomplish against their creatures of shadow, their soldiers of darkness…_

_This is a fight for survival… Weakening the Malevolence will not permanently cure it… but we all understand that water is the primary source of purification… With waters of purification our seraphic artes should be more effective in keeping the Shadowlords' armies at bay. Of course it would be hard work on everyone’s part since the enemy has grown in magnitude… but if we can keep their numbers from growing further… I'm certain_ _it will be of considerable help to the Innominat upon their awakening…”_

All Sorey needed to do was to follow Lord Ekseo’s instructions. First, he needed to mix the water in the vial with the same amount of water from the Lefay Shrine… Then using the Altar of Holies supposedly located here in the caverns of Camoria, he should follow the ritual for purification, using the artes that Lord Ekseo had taught him—combined with the powers of the former Shepherd that hopefully, Sorey could awaken from deep within him.

As Sorey held the crystal-clear vial between his thumb and index finger, he could not help feeling a little hopeful yet bitter. That so many seraphel had to risk their lives for a few drops of water… for a faint, lingering hope. Still…

Sorey’s fingers trembled. Breeding seraphel… the aberration that comes from the union of seraphim and hellion… even Lord Ekseo knew he would never encourage it or allow it to continue if it were a matter left to him. As it is he tolerates the practice that the Guild Masters have approved by consensus; they argued that relying on the services of this new-found species is a necessary contingency plan until the Innominat have awakened. Sorey admits that his ambivalence, for the most part, is hinged on his prevailing concept of the seraphim as a race of pure beings with the purest of souls. He can’t deny though that some part of it may have to do with either guilt or sympathetic feelings toward their breed. Although it is terrifying to think that the seraphel are parasitic—dependent as they are on human corpses for vessels as part of the mutation that gives them a short lifespan—Sorey knows that the same limitation makes them susceptible to abuse. It is well-known that being half-seraphim, they possess abilities and functions that enable them to think and behave very much like normal humans to which is added their excellent sensitivity to even the faintest traces of Malevolence. But what is really unique to their bodies is their extraordinary physical strength, their strong telepathic abilities, and their ability to completely suppress the instinctive violence and depravation that naturally manifest among hellions.

So the seraphel are the living proof that the process of degenerating into a complete hellion can be reversed or overcome. But Sorey is more concerned with the implications… Does that mean mating with the seraphim allows hellions to be purified from within—thereby producing purified hellions?

The thought is simply staggering. But Sorey knows it’s one of the reasons why the guilds are interested in studying the phenomena even more deeply. If a permanent cure to the Malevolence can be found, then there is hope of taking Glenwood back from the Shadowlords and their hellion armies.

But for the seraphel, of course, the theory has one frightening consequence: they have become the Shadowlords’—not to mention each and every hellion’s—natural enemies. Given their natural disposition to help the seraphim who provide them with human bodies for longevity and protection, they are loathed and despised, rabidly hunted down and slaughtered by hellions. For the Shadowlords, the seraphel are doubtless a threat, traitors who can suppress their hellion instincts at will and who provide the seraphim with an army of warriors with capabilities that are equal to, if not greater than, those of hellions.

And this is the reason why the Guild of Lamorack, which consists of the few remaining seraphim sub-lords who serve under Lord Ekseo, remains a secret existence. Run with the assistance of seraphim who must be put under constant supervision by the Guild Master as they too have been infected partially by the Malevolence, the Guild serves as the ultimate seraphel breeding ground and research facility. Fundamentally, they seek to discover how hellion mutations can be reversed or at least controlled once the Malevolence has seeped in. Essentially, though, such discoveries are meant to develop better ways of eliminating hellions by targeting their most vulnerable weak spots.

Then there is another guild run by another seraph survivor, Lord Uno… He maintains the Guild of Tintagel, the purpose of which is to guard the Tintagel Catacombs where the Innominat remain sealed.

Of course both guilds rely on a steady supply of half-breeds, which are efficiently divided into class types: the _Sentinels_ , used to fill the rank and file of soldiers tasked with resisting hellion attacks; the _Keepers_ who are tasked with the maintenance of the archives and the storage and safekeeping of pertinent records and information that the guilds may find useful for research and documentation purposes; and the _Wielders_  who, like the Sentinels, have been trained in the use of both defensive and offensive artes much needed in their primary task of retrieving and procuring needed materials necessary for those other functions managed by the guilds. This last class of seraphel is the one given dangerous assignments such as the infiltration of the Galahad Ruins. Fundamentally, they also handle such tasks as mapping routes and locations heavily patrolled by wraiths, hellions, drakes, and dragons, as well as conducting safe passage for Sorey and the Guild Masters around and through the ruins scattered around the continent. The way Glenwood is, the Shadowlords’ armies of armored hellions and wraiths roam the grounds freely and so present a constant threat. Bred and raised by the Shadowlords themselves, these voracious fighting-slaves number by the thousands and serve to expand and fortify the Insidion’s encroaching domains.  

But Symonne is right. There is reason to be more confident and optimistic now that the Five Lords have _almost_ awakened, their crystal seals showing fissures—partial signs—that some potent force is stirring from within. Sorey remembers Lord Uno’s warning:

 

_“Sorey, if we allow the awakening to drag on, if the secret power nestling in that prison was allowed to leak and breach the walls of the catacombs, armies of hellions might gather to put a stop to it by soaking up the protected domain with their own store of Malevolence. They did that before with the seraphim we had rescued from Loghrin, Volgran, and Biroclef… Remember what happened to Igraine when it was attacked? That Guild was the first we had lost to the Shadowlords… We cannot be careless yet again when it comes to protecting our fellow seraphim…”_

 

And now that warning is making Sorey ever so cautious to the point of harboring doubts against the seraphel. Even if Symonne has demonstrated nothing but the sincerest loyalty to the Guilds, enough to convince both Lord Uno and Lord Ekseo, he can’t ignore the fact that she is still part hellion, resurrected from the ashes as part of the pact with the Heart of the Malevolence. Her existence is part of the _law of symmetry_ or what the ancients call the _Covenant of Harmony_ , which is the guiding principle that determines the conditions of the pact:

 

_For every Soul of Light you save from the netherworld, from the abyss where things made are unmade, you shall choose a Soul of Dark to be saved…_

_For no light is free of shadow, thus all darkness comes from light… Thus, light fathers its own enemy as all good things cast seeds that bring forth evil… even in the purest of hearts…_

Yet if Sorey were to consider it more thoroughly, it is obvious how Symonne’s resurrection was unlike others’ and might have been independent of the conditions of the _Covenant_. After all, she was part of the first generation of offspring resulting from the mating of hellions and seraphim who have been infected with the Malevolence. Perhaps being half-seraphim and having that connection with him in some distant past was the reason she seemed more subservient to him than others… though of course, Sorey had often spoken against it, since he would never encourage such forms of obsequiousness that bordered on slavery. But did he really possess the power to impose his will on the seraphel or did she, like, others, allow him that power by her own free will? What of her memories? It was strange how vivid her memories were of Heldalf and the battle at Camlann, where Symonne had even attempted to corrupt Mikleo using Lady Muse as bait. So it seems the Heart can use any means possible, even seraphel bodies, to resurrect both Souls of Light and Dark. That just gave Sorey one more mind notch to untangle…

If the Heart of the Malevolence could sift through his memories in choosing which Souls of Dark to revive, he was almost certain that among those resurrected adversaries he should watch out for would be Lunarre, Cardinal Forton, Maltran, Bartlow, including, perhaps, those drakes and dragons he had fought before… and then there’s Heldalf… All these are safe assumptions aren’t they?

Regarding Symonne then, is she supposed to be a Soul of Dark who has turned to his side? If a former adversary can be resurrected as a Soul of Light, is it possible then for a former ally to be resurrected as a Soul of Dark?

Sorey’s heart skipped several beats as if something too horrible to name has just been born in front of him. Could it be he had overlooked that possibility even when it should have been obvious from the very beginning? What if within one of the Souls of Light he had asked the Heart to save to be one of the guardians of the Vessel, there lurks a Soul of Dark, a traitor fated to become one of the apostles of the Insidion? And what if that soul has slipped through the Gate and now lives among the other Souls of Light, right where Mikleo is?

He had always thought of finding the answers he needed in the ruins, in the ancient tomes he had been translating all these two thousand years. But until now he had found nothing about the Insidion to help him resolve even half of its mysteries. Ironically, in his search throughout the world, he has found nothing but more questions, more puzzling theories that confound reason and patience…

“My Lord… this writing… I believe the inscription is quite familiar. I have seen it used in some of the writings that you asked the Lamorack Guild to transcribe. I remember Lord Ekseo saying that the Altar of Holies might be a little difficult to find, its name varying in several ancient tongues and inscriptions. Still the signs can't be remotely different so as to mislead completely. That means there is still hope that we might be able to decipher the seals on its chamber, which should be translatable as they resemble more common ancient languages…”

“That might be it then…” Sorey lingered over Symonne’s shoulder, trying to follow the scraggly, dust-laden cipher etched onto the monolith that remained standing though half of it had crumbled into useless rubble. “You think you can copy it on this parchment? I always knew it would be handy to carry one… Mikleo and I never forgot—”

Sorey froze. He had been so caught up in the memories and images of Mikleo lately that even when he knew the risks—even when he had, in fact, just broken his Oath of Purity when he cried out Mikleo’s name for the first time _that_ fateful day—he had spoken that name again here, deep in the Camoria Caverns, among these chains of dungeons and cave ruins which, though far from Pendrago and not as sick with the taint of the Insidion as the cities and capitals that marked the centers of human civilization around Glenwood, could _never_ be completely free of hellion spies who work for the Shadowlords.

In fact, just thinking about the possibilities of rousing those half-human, half-wraith slave-masters who serve the Insidion—those shape-shifting masters of the forbidden seraphic artes who are capable of mobilizing armies of hellions—Sorey cannot help but wince at his carelessness. It might have been Symonne’s fault for awakening the desire he had killed before, to see Mikleo again… but now, he might have to thank her for rekindling that desire within him. If it were only possible, he would march into the den of the Shadowlords right now and challenge the Insidion to a final battle of truths...

He wanted nothing more than to end all of these things… so this world could be finally pure and free again… because this world is where Mikleo must return eventually… to be with him forever…

“Lord Sorey… pardon my saying this, but your thoughts seem to stray far from the task at hand…”

Sorey shook his head. “Sorry, I can’t help thinking about _him_ … It hurts to think about him… but admitting that is like saying I don’t want to ever think of anything at all…”

“Because he is everything you care to think about…” Symonne added in a vague whisper, her eyes averted, almost hidden in the angling shadows nearby. “Need I remind you, my Lord, that broken oaths weaken your soul and lower your resistance to the attacks of the enemy. As we speak the Lamorack Guild is doing its best to train new seraphel allies in the use of the Enchantments… Those forbidden artes are our only fighting chance against the forces being amassed by the slave-masters…”

Sorey clenched his fist. “I know that, Symonne… I just wish there are other ways of fighting the spells and enchantments of the Shadowlords other than the use of forbidden artes.”

“I admire your idealism and pure intentions, Lord Sorey. You are indeed, still the same benevolent Shepherd who defeated Master Heldalf during that time that is considered ancient now… but we fight an enemy that is far more powerful than any Lord of Calamity. Of course my insights are nothing compared to the Shepherd’s… but it takes no great feeling to sense that a pure and indestructible evil has seeped into the very core of this world… so there’s no longer any good anywhere… just the path of the lesser evil that might save us some time… as likewise mentioned in the Enchantments of Avarost...”

“And—and what is that exactly?” Sorey, for the first time, ventured to ask. Unlike before, he had never encouraged Symonne to mention any part of that book to him—to discuss any content even remotely related to the topic of the forbidden artes. So what has made him change his mind?

“It says that Evil is no disease that seeks a cure. It is simply an existence that permeates everything… so there is no hope of healing anyone from its effects. Nothing can tame Evil… Its magnitude and potency depend upon the one who possesses it… his emotional wounds, the pain and suffering which he allows to fester into hate. My analogy might not be that helpful, but to me Malevolence is much like the pain from a wound that profusely bleeds. Nothing really removes the pain, but we can dull it with the balm of our senses, the same way we dull our agonies, the sting in our hearts and turn them into scars that seal away the hurts within…”

Once again, Sorey felt a heavy weight pressing on his shoulders. He knew Symonne had a point. But is he to give up so casually because even the omnipotent ancients of the old world seemed to have given up finding an answer to the problem of Evil from the very beginning?

Sorey let out a heavy sigh. So what if this Evil cannot be purified? Would he ever know the limits of anything without pushing it, testing it, stretching it as far as he could?

As Sorey tried to suppress these nervous misgivings, his eyes grazed the parchment that was still rolled in his right hand. It was so like Mikleo to remind him to bring writing tools with which they could copy the markings they find in the ruins and to compare it with the various inscriptions coded and transcribed in Gramps’s personal archives—a room full of ancient tomes that they would raid with personal relish no matter how often they had been scolded and punished for it.

 

_“No dinner for you two until you express the sincerity of your apologies by rewriting volume three of The Natural History of Healing and Herbal Teas.”_

_“Aww… but Gramps! Can’t you let us transcribe something more fun? Like The History of Seraphic Architecture from Avarost to Asgard?”_

_“Sorey! Didn’t I just ask you to mind your manners? Or should I add another volume that could keep you busy until after tomorrow’s breakfast?”_

_“G-Gramps! No way! I’ll definitely starve!”_

_Mikleo huffed beside him, his face cool and composed despite the fact that he was the culprit this time. “That’s the idea, Sorey. No punishment is ever nice.”_

_“Shut up. It was your fault for bringing up the idea of taking a sneak-peek at the Seraphic Lexicon.”_

_“MY IDEA??? When was that exactly? You were the one who kept whining and complaining all day about NOT getting the translation right for that inscription we found the other day!”_

_“But, Mikleo, YOU’RE the one who said only the Seraphic Lexicon has ALL the words we need to translate it properly.”_

_“Thanks for vindicating me. Like you said that’s all I EVER said. I made no mention of going by stealth to get the task done, all right?”_

_Little did they know that Gramps had been listening to their argument the whole time, pressing his lips in amusement and annoyance._

_“It’s all the same to me, Mikleo. You’re NOT saying it doesn’t mean you DIDN’T suggest any of it. You’re just being shrewd.”_

_Mikleo put one hand on his hip. “Are you seriously picking a fight with me, Sorey?”_

_“So what? I’m bigger.”_

_“And I’m older… By any standards that counts as MORE important.”_

_“Only by a year.” Sorey was unwilling to give in._

_“And only by an inch,” Mikleo huffed back, crossing his arms indifferently, although one glimpse of his scrunched up face and anyone could tell he was most definitely pissed._

_“Three-and-a-half inches to be exact.”_

_“You’re exaggerating. It’s really just two and one-fifth of an inch.”_

_“Fine. You’re plenty cute when you’re smaller anyways.”_

_“W-what?”_

_Sorey knew how much that kind of teasing flustered Mikleo. And it was so precious to watch—even more fun and exciting and fascinating than any ruin he had ever seen or explored._

_“S-Sorey! I’m not about to say you’re a lot stronger or handsomer just because you’re bigger, all right?”_

_“But you just DID, pretty Mikleo!”_

_Mikleo tried to grab him by the ear to give it a nasty tweak. “S-say that again?”_

_But Sorey had already leapt out of Mikleo’s reach and ran out the door of the archives but not without looking over his shoulder at Mikleo._

_“Purr—i—tty, pretty, Mikleo!”_

_“H-hey, you’re NOT gonna run away and get away with something like that, Sorey! Besides I can’t transcribe the whole volume by myself, sheesh!”_

At that time, he hadn't realized that not having dinner was neither a threat nor an inconvenience to seraphim because they never needed to eat. But Mikleo and Gramps had never even hinted this during their times together in Elysia… and Mikleo, for all the secrets he had shared with Sorey—including the ancient name that the seraphim are given which should not be revealed even to other seraphim—never made him feel the slightest guilt for the habits he imposed upon himself all for Sorey’s benefit… so that he wouldn’t have to feel any different from everyone around him who loved him as their own…

All those thoughts were enough for now. Sorey felt the world coming to life once more, revolving once more from a center that makes all the difference. And that was all he needed to think about, all he needed to believe in and to put all his faith in.

Sorey tore the parchment in half and handed one to Symonne who looked at him in surprise. “All right… let’s do this together. You can work on that side, writing down whatever’s readable while I go over that wall to see if I can find anything useful. If I use my intuition, I can say we’re very close to the Altar… I can sense the stirrings of some spiritual energy right here… but it’s too faint or weak. In any case, we can’t be that far from it. And I don’t care if I have to stay here for a year trying to find it. I know I just have to… and I will.”

_Because I know it’s the only way I can redeem this world… for Mikleo and myself…_

_As long as his happiness can be protected by these same hands, by this same strength, I will endure…_

_Even if I disappear using everything I have to protect his happiness, I wouldn’t mind…_

_Because even if he only smiles for me… that is enough. That is my everything._

 

**o-----)O(-----o**

 

“Lord Heldalf… do you still go by that ancient name? Hearing it is so unnerving… almost as if I’m face-to-face with a living, breathing villain that came to life from the pages of some old, whittled, fairytale book abandoned in some dusty library.”

The large, brawny, unshaven man with smoldering blue eyes and thick brown hair that needed trimming as it fell in an unkempt mess around his shoulders simply gazed back at the intruder who addressed him so casually. Before him, Lunarre Lefayette looked quite the opposite. Unlike the bulky, muscular man who sat slumped and relaxed in an old, tattered leather chair, dressed in wrinkled, threadbare clothing consisting of a gray tunic and black pants, Lunarre looked clean and crisp in a white business suit that had a striking yellow tie and a purple corsage on the left breast. On his face was a sneer that seemed as arrogant and cocky as the rest of him, as wisps of smoke snaked from the end of his pipe into the cold, heavy air inside the dingy room.

When the pipe left his lips, words drifted from them with serpentine grace. “I could help you get out of here, Lord Heldalf, if you’re interested in what I have to say.”

Something like a smile softened the muscular jaw of the heavy man spoken to but the expression behind it seemed bland and distant. “Sounds propitious, but this you must know, Mr. Lefayette: you were not the first to try to make me an accomplice in some convoluted plot. Believe me, I’ve had all sorts of interesting proposals thrown my way before. And not a single one was worth my time, so don’t waste your breath. Besides, I hate for your elegant coat to get all smudged.”

Lunarre smiled back, more cockily this time, letting the corners of his mouth curve upwards in that queer, provocative way that made his expression so familiar. But the man he addressed as Heldalf didn’t even twitch an eyebrow. Lunarre swiveled on his heels, giving the room a sweep of his cold, calculating amber eyes as if to let the older man know how much he could see through everything.

The room indeed looked as if it was in dingy disrepair—like an old, abandoned warehouse lived-in by all kinds of rodents. But Lunarre knew it must be hiding something even more appalling than that—something that Heldalf would never let anyone see or realize just yet.

“This room lacks the sophistication of royalty. You’re certain you don’t miss your throne room at all? You deserve to be in a place fit for kings. And that isn’t gonna happen if you live among the rats in this rotten prison hole.”

“Concerned? I don’t think it’s in your nature to have emotions at all.”

Lunarre chuckled, high cheekbones rising to the corners of his eyes as he weighed the flattery and the insult in that remark. “I heard you ran into some troublesome complications a few months ago. Or has it been years? Mafia ringleaders are easy to deal with—if you have the money. And I do have a lot I can waste on you. Just tell me when you’re sick and tired of playing this sick little game of yours, all right? But of course, I might change my mind pretty soon. And that might mean letting the other party dispose of you sooner than hello.”

“Big talk for someone who can’t even spring a trap for rats. You haven’t caught any in this lifetime have you?”

“I’m more interested in butterflies. Trimming their wings is so much more fun. Especially when they can’t even see it themselves. Besides, it takes so little to hurt fragile things. And that’s what I like most about it.”

“It almost sounds as if we’re talking about the same thing.”

“I’ve located the _Heart of the Insidion_ and the vessel that seals its powers away. Don’t tell me that doesn’t ring a bell? Or are you still insisting on not knowing anything? Selective amnesia is quite an excuse.”

“If you give me more than _that_ I might pay _more_ attention.”

“ _One_ of my hellions found him. I’ve been seeking him out for two hundred years… but it seems he was late in coming. Or maybe he was just good at hiding himself. In any case, the Heart was shrewd—letting him come here in the most unconventional of ways. The vessel is disguised as a human… I’ve tracked him about two years ago, but something happened and he just disappeared from my sights—but a few days ago, one of my hellions sniffed him out… Of course, it isn’t _that_ easy to be anywhere near him, now that Zenrus and the others have decided to surround him, protective as always. They must have sensed my presence—or my hellion just got carried away and exposed himself too soon. In any case, things are going to get even more interesting once you join the fray… What say you, _Master_ Heldalf?”

“Nothing. Because as far as I know, that is _not_ what I came here to do.”

“Pardon me, but is there anything more powerful than the only thing the Insidion fears in this universe? The Insidion which is feared by even the Leviathan fears something that belongs to itself. Doesn’t that intrigue you at all?”

“Forgive me, Mr. Lefayette, but I didn’t come to this world to relish intrigues. I came for one reason… to find him and only him…”

“You don’t mean—”

“The lamb who offers himself to the gods… whose blood is so pure only the Holy Grail is worthy to convey its sacred offering. I only seek the _end_ of Sorey. He alone is my enemy… the final hell which gives me the strength to endure all others.”

“It must be ironic that you came this far to find someone who is no longer a threat. Still, if it is your finest wish, I can make arrangements for you two to meet. I only advise that you be more subtle in your approach to this _new Sorey_. He may be weak and frail like any other human but he exists only to protect his beloved vessel. And if he still possesses some of the powers of the former Shepherd, then his will alone must be just as frightening. But it’s going to be fun if you think about it! It’s almost like hitting two birds with one stone... I’m certain the Shepherd will lose his mind if anything should happen to the Heart that keeps his dear one alive… Of course, he doesn’t know that yet… which makes it even more fascinating to watch him fall ever so slowly but surely… like a pathetic fly that has wetted its wings on a shallow pool and slowly sinks itself to death…”

Heldalf grunted at that. “Your hate for the Shepherd makes mine almost childish.”

“If you’ve had all the boredom you could take trying to pass off as a human all these centuries that you’ve been stuck in this hellhole, I’m sure you’d feel the same as I do… I’m certain you’d relish the thought of watching the Shepherd and all his I’m-too-good-for-this-world seraphim friends become hellions themselves. They deserve to feel what we all feel… the torture of greed, of having an insatiable hunger that drives you to madness and despair! They ought to feel what loneliness means when you know you cannot be saved even by the purest of the pure! Such fools… there is nothing uglier than the divine idea that eternity is deserved only by the good and the beautiful…”

“Your ideas are almost admirable, but it seems your mind had been twisted by all those years of endless plotting and connivance! The Shepherd may be a mere human as you say, but when I fought him I perceived no such weakness as you accuse him of. If anything, his will toward goodness seems too pure to be tainted by human emotions no matter which it is: fear, hate, pity, love... It is that quality in him that raises a challenge worth my attention and fury.”

“But a man’s heart is a room full of secrets no single door or key can open. He hid his feelings well as all secrets are well-hidden… So not having seen them, how could you have known what his _true_ weakness was, or how to make him bleed?”

“If that is so, then arrange for us to meet. I want to see this weakness you proclaim with my own eyes.”

“As you desire. But if I may suggest, Master Heldalf, we can make use of your connections with these underworld scums to set up a trap… You pursue the former Shepherd to your heart’s desire… ‘cause I’m certain the vessel would need more of my _personal_ attention…”

“Do as you wish but address me not by my ancient name. Once I leave this room, Heathbran is the only one I shall answer to.”

Lunarre smiled, flicking his tongue as if to play with the sound of that new name. “ _Mr. Heathbran_ , as you wish.”

 

**o-----)O(-----o**

 

“Master Sorey!”

Symonne traced a finger along a square patch of earth that hides a groove shaped like a symbol of intersecting crescents, forming a cross inside what seems to be a five-pointed star. Sorey stared at it curiously, hovering over Symonne’s shoulder as his other hand held the parchment he had been writing on.

“It has an inscription around it. But the rock has been eroded so badly hardly much can be read from this end to here.”

Sorey nodded wordlessly and with an index finger began to trace the markings which Symonne pointed out. He was almost certain they looked similar to the ancient Samacean inscriptions he and Mikleo had once attempted to decipher and transcribe back in their childhood days in Elysia. With a grin, Sorey felt more than relieved that he could recall so much from long ago, but then he stopped his thoughts there, knowing that reminiscing those happy days might distract him again. He scrunched up his face at the markings once more, but something unexpected flits into his memories and his face lights up involuntarily, taking Symonne by surprise.

“What is it my Lord?”

Sorey remembers that time, when he and Mikleo encountered a similar incomplete puzzle.

 

_“Sorey, most inscriptions work around patterns and formulas. The other half that’s missing... you can supply some possible phrases depending on what you suppose the content or theme is about.”_

 

Sorey thought that suggestion might just work. He pulled out a large leather-bound tome strapped to his side and flipped the covers open.

“Is that the _Celestial Record_ I’ve heard so much about?”

Sorey just nodded with a short hum. He pulled out a thin, worn-out scrap of parchment paper from the middle and started unfolding it.

There were various symbols on it that seemed comparatively similar. Sorey traced each line carefully with his index finger, stopping in the middle of what looked like a list. “Uh, I think I got it!”

He got down on one knee and tried to match the symbols on the paper he had been reading with those engraved on the dusty, half-broken slab of writing near the bottom of the monolith.

“Why should the inscriptions down there be important, my Lord?”

Sorey grinned but his eyes didn’t avert their gaze from the inscription. “Monoliths can get badly eroded in time. The one that remains is always the bottom half. So the most important things are bound to be written or re-written there—just in case the top comes off.”

“You are very learned in these things.”

“Nah. Just intuition. And the insights of one avid ruin explorer like me. But even if you have both intuition and insight, the same assumptions don’t work all the time. It depends on having a great deal of experience on many types of the same thing… and of course, some bit of luck always comes in handy.”

After spending some time copying the inscriptions on the earthen surface back to the parchment paper, Sorey finally stands up and recites those same words he has written.

Symonne watches attentively, eyes flickering with rapt interest as words with the sound of ancient wisdom and foreboding floated around them.

Sorey finishes the incantation and looks at the monolith, watching for any signs.

Silence. The caverns remained as soundless as before except for the tiny sounds of scurrying rats.

Sorey put one hand on his hip and with the other hand rubbed the back of his head. “I must have missed something that’s not _too_ obvious… Uh, wait, Mikleo would probably check the grammar… and maybe, yeah, use a participle somewhere here? Let me try that…”

Sorey turns back to the parchment in his hand and writes the needed correction impatiently, scrunching up his face as he held the parchment away to give it a final look-over before slipping the pen back to his pouch. Then using the same tone and pitch as before, he began reciting the words carefully, letting those esoteric syllables echo around the walls and into the darkness like an enchantment of ancient curses.

Nothing happens.

Sorey sighs, a deep frown creasing his forehead this time. “I really don’t get it… Maybe there’s an accompanying ritual… or something I should have done while I was reciting it…”

Sorey put a palm on the center of the monolith and suddenly the entire column trembles from beneath.

“Lord Sorey!”

Sorey moves away from the monolith and sees the symbol hidden beneath the dust glow with a red, fiery light. The inscriptions at the foot of the monolith light up, spreading that light along the grooves bordering the entire surface of the rock before circling the emblem that shone in the middle which Sorey had just touched.

The symbol of crossed crescents inside the star glowed and thrust itself deeply into the center of the rock surface; then as the ground started to shift, the entire monolith crumbled and withered into dust, leaving the inscriptions floating in mid-air, like letters and symbols written on an invisible parchment, their outlines flickering, illuminated by an ethereal glow that was breathtaking to watch.

Sorey could decipher them more clearly now, as the inscriptions seemed to have been restored in their original form, clarifying and replacing what was missing before. He recited the words, enunciating each syllable carefully in the same deep, serene voice that he and Mikleo had practiced so many times for fun during their ruin explorations.

The golden symbols exploded into sparks of blue, red, and green light then shimmered into paler hues, like a faded rainbow, before fading into a shroud of mist. The mist thickens around them, forcing Sorey to wave his hands in front of him. It was almost impossible to see Symonne through the haze even if he was certain she couldn’t be standing far from the same spot.

“Lord Sorey, where are you?”

“Uh… that depends on where you are. I can’t even see my hand in front of my eyes.”

A flicker of laughter reaches him. “Were you always like this before, Lord Sorey? Back in those days…?”

He didn’t want to talk too much about it with anyone, but it was something a little too hard to deny either. “I guess so. H-hey, did you feel that? Something seems to be shaking…”

Sorey couldn’t say anything more, neither could Symonne. Below them the ground cracked and boomed with a thundering sound, then crumbled into slivers of rock and dust that started falling away, right under their feet.

 

**o-----)O(-----o**

 

“Sorey, hey, what are you doing out here gazing up at the stars with that lonely, puppy face of yours?”

“Oh, it’s you, Rose…”

Sorey had been sitting along the edge of the fountain when Rose arrived, breaking the silence that seemed to be taking forever.

“What’s up? If I didn’t know you that well, I would say you’re trying to get away with something here, you know, after leaving me and Alisha and hiding yourself away like this.”

She had expected Sorey to laugh and deny it but he simply smiled. “Sit down. I’m glad it’s not that cold or chilly yet.”

“Not cold, huh? Are you sure?” Rose sat next to him, just half a shadow away, flicking a look at him sideways. She had been feeling strange around him lately, like something about him seemed a little different, a little unfamiliar and _un-_ Sorey. It isn’t that Sorey is indifferent or unfriendly at all… But when he met her and Alisha for dinner, she sensed something off... as if his mind was far away, too far for reaching... as if it had drifted to another star, or he had locked it up in a chest and couldn’t find the key.

But there's no way of being sure until Sorey himself admits it. And that's the trick. Sorey is a bad liar but he's awfully good at keeping secrets. Too good. It's his way of getting around the problem of truths... which, of course, gives her the perfect excuse to play detective.

“Geez, it’s been some time since we had this much time to spend together, I mean, when we were kids we’d meet on weekends and just play and goof around like there’s no tomorrow.”

Sorey nodded wordlessly.

“Well, those were the good ole days! Gosh, how am I supposed to say this… uh…”

Sorey cocked an eyebrow. Somehow, Rose found his silence unnerving.

“Okay, fine, if you’re not gonna help me sort it all out, I might as well give it to you straight! I mean, Sorey, you stupid _dork_ , can’t you show some kinda romantic cheer at least? It’s the first time in ages that you and Alisha have some alone time together, and here you are being so formal and moody and making us feel like strangers! Gods, can’t you see Alisha’s just waiting for you to… you know… to make the first move...?”

Sorey found himself wincing slightly at that. Although he was happy to see Alisha and Rose again, he couldn’t help it if his mind kept drifting somewhere else. Right after dinner, he excused himself and decided to take a short walk around the mansion. Of course he would have relished that moment more if Mikleo were next to him, but right after he came out of the shower, he found Mikleo dozing off, a pillow hugged tightly in his arms in the exact same way when Sorey left him on the bed. Carefully stroking those soft, silver strands of hair that were splayed on the white pillows and partially covering Mikleo’s cheeks, Sorey felt something in his chest grow heavy—whether it was guilt, lust, or both he had no way of telling. But the image definitely moved him, touched him, making him want to just stay there beside Mikleo and caress him gently, nervously like that, with every ache and swell in his chest telling him something he had known a long time ago…

He was in love. And it was the first time he had felt it… and even though it was his first, he would never ever want or wish to feel this way with anyone else.

He wanted _only_ Mikleo… It didn’t matter if there was someone out there more beautiful, more brilliant, more in every way…

Because no one else will ever do.

Thinking about it now but not wanting to share it just yet, Sorey realized it may be the reason Rose found him listless, inattentive, though it was not something he intended to show. He didn’t even realize where he was heading until his feet had carried him to this part of the outer grounds—the courtyard just below the balcony of his private room. He sat around the fountain and wondered when it would be the best time to remind Mikleo of that special moment that had taken place here eight years ago… But if he were to be perfectly honest, what really bothered him was deciding whether awakening those memories would do more harm than good; after all, Mikleo’s experiences back then were more traumatic than his. If Mikleo were to remember Sorey’s part in his life eight years ago only to be reminded of the horrible pain and abuse he went through because of those _other_ incidents, then the plan might backfire. Mikleo might shut him out or become evasive in the same way Mikleo had shut out that part of their past completely.

“Earth to Sorey, where are you, kid?”

Sorey smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, just thinking about a lot of stuff lately.”

“What for? Or who?”

“Hey, can’t I keep secrets from everyone once in a while, at least?”

“I hope you’re NOT thinking about anyone other than Alisha, are you?”

“Rose…” Sorey felt his voice suddenly grow hoarse, though he wasn’t sure if he were nervous or just tired and lonely. “Do you mind if I ask… if you’ve ever been in love?”

Rose almost jumped. “You jerk! What kinda question is that? You're speaking to an older woman here, have some respect!"

Sorey gave her a confused look. "Uh, it's not like seventeen is a LOT older, you know."

"All right, sheesh, it's just that you guys seem to think of me as some heartless assassin! But since it's rare of you to be curious about my personal life, the answer is yes, of course I have…”

Sorey raised an eyebrow. “Really? And… what happened?”

“Nah, I don’t even wanna think about it! I’m sure he’s happy… even if the only happy people left in this world are the ones in the ads. But, hey, who needs happiness it’s just an image, not for real!”

Sorey grinned sheepishly. “Hey, I’m in the ads too…”

“So I guess that makes you happy. Lucky you!”

Sorey scrunches up his face. “Uh, I don’t quite get that…”

Rose winces slightly. “All right, kidding, I know my sarcasm sucks. But you and Alisha deserve to be happy, you know. So are you tying the knot before or after college?”

“Whaaat? Don’t you think it’s too soon to ask about that kind of thing? I’m only sixteen…”

“Yeah, I keep forgetting you’re one year younger than me and Alisha. Kinda cool. You dig older women don’t you?”

“Geez, Rose, how can you say things like that, it’s kinda embarrassing! Seriously, it’s not like I even think about those things… when it’s about Alisha, that is…”

“Sheesh, that’s what’s wrong with you! Where the hell did all your romantic bones and nerves go?”

Sorey blushed a deep red as his eyes involuntarily darted to the balcony whose spiral columns looked romantic under the moonlight. “Ha, ha… I believe they need a rest at the moment.”

“Eeehhh?” Rose stood up and marched right in front of him, arms akimbo as she leaned over to scrunch her face right on top of his nose. “Hey, Sorey Sheppard, will you tell me this one thing straight. Are you two-timing my best friend?”

“Who's two-timing who, if I may ask?”

Rose and Sorey craned their necks at the same time in the same direction. Alisha was smiling at them a few feet away, looking sweet and dainty in a cute yet ultra-slim black décolleté with a tiny pink belt that matches the band around her neck that had a dangling heart pendant. Sorey’s mom had given it to her on her tenth birthday... and six months ago, Zenrus Sheppard and her father had announced her and Sorey’s engagement…

Just fairly recently, she and Sorey had their first major argument. Alisha peeked at his cellphone—which Sorey allowed only because he had lost a bet with Rose (like when has he ever won against Rose’s superb instincts in gambling and betting anyway?)—and found out that he had five Alisha _s_ in his contacts distinguished only by number—something like Alisha 1, Alisha 2, except for one that had Alisha Diphda written in full….

He explained that there’s no helping it. Alisha is a popular name so it’s normal to meet people in the business who use that name too—whether it’s their real name or just a pseudonym…

So she typed _fiancée_ in the place of _Alisha Diphda_. That would be _unmistakably_ her. And it sounds more personal too—more unique—for he could only have one and only _one_ fiancée in the world…

And that would be her.

Sorey felt a warm sensation down his spine that screamed a warning. But it was different from the sad, heart-stopping guilt he felt with Mikleo—the kind of guilt that made him want to wrap his arms around Mikleo, to keep him safe and untouched and protected beside him—even from his own selfish wants and feelings.

Sorey hastily thought of something to say to Alisha with her eyes gazing into his in that worried, inquisitive way, but as he was about to open his mouth, Rose beat him to it.

“Uh… hey Alisha! So it’s you, ha ha! No worries, sorry, I was just overreacting to something your boyfriend said… this goofy, geeky, thing!”

She slapped Sorey hard on the shoulder, which made him stumble as he was about to stand up.

Alisha smiled, her eyes hovering over Sorey as she folded her arms over her chest, squeezing them tight in that shy, modest way which boys must find irresistibly cute. “I guess Rose does have her own way of showing she misses you…”

Rose clenched a fist at her. “Alish, are you seriously hurting to see a fight right now? I’ll charge you admission though!”

Alisha giggled. “No, thanks.” She looks up at the sky and smiles as moonbeams meet her face. The skies are clear and the full moon is a perfect, full circle…

“You… have something on your mind just now?” Sorey sounded hesitant though he wasn’t sure why.

“To be honest, I _do_ have something I want to discuss… but it can wait. I mean, I'd understand if you’re busy or not in the mood for something serious…”

Rose squirmed. “Whoa, when you put it that way, do you think any guy would have the nerve to say ‘okay’ and just ignore you? If you need some privacy, I’d be going inside. Uh, by the way, are you sure Mikleo’s not coming down soon? I hear from Dezel that he’s kinda resting… You’re studying with him, right? You’re lucky to get a tutor this quick—and a top-notch too! I heard he’s your and Alisha’s student council president… He must be a genius, a workaholic, my type actually! Do you think you can introduce me or something?”

Alisha giggled. “He’s very good-looking, mind you! A lot of girls have a secret crush on him… but he’s kind of distant… in a cool way, of course! One of my friends even slipped a love letter in his notebook."

"Oh yeah?" Sorey wasn't sure how that question slipped out of his mouth, but it did.

"If you ask me, I find that rather cute. I just wish someone here isn't too slow on the uptake," Rose quipped meaningfully.

"Well, my friend  _is_ rather cute too, actually," Alisha giggled, then her eyes became wistful all of a sudden. "I heard things like that happen all the time, but he's good at ignoring just about anything-or any girl. I'm sure he didn't mean to be rude or insensitive... Maybe he’s just got... other priorities... not that it's bad or anything.”

"Books over babes, that sort of looker?"

Sorey felt his chest heave. “I—I didn’t know that!”

Rose snickered. “Jealous already? Think he’s any competition, huh?”

“J-jealous? W-what do you mean?” Sorey felt his heart skipping two beats at once.

“C’mon, isn’t it like Mr. Popularity meeting Mr. Perfect? Are you already wondering whether Alisha here might just fall for the likes of a guy like that?"

Alisha blushed. "I don't think he's my type at all!"

Rose rolled up her eyes. "'Cause you already have someone you're head over heels for, sheesh! But seriously, I’d like to get to know guys with balls and brains, not just tons of looks and charm and sex appeal—though that might work too—if only Alisha hasn’t strung him faster to her apron than I did!”

“Rose!" Alisha gushed, her cheeks flushed pink. "What apron are you even talking about?”

“The one that you wear with nothing else on your honeymoon? Kidding, my bad, all right, I’m leaving! About that Mikleo guy…”

Sorey frowned. “Maybe some other time, Rose. Mikleo and I just… uhh… finished something… and he’s probably taking a nap.”

Alisha looked surprised as if she suddenly remembered something urgent. “Wait, you and Mikleo haven’t been coming to school for the past few days… I heard some things about Mikleo having to stay at a hospital… as for you… it must be terrible to have to be grounded for a week for making Gramps so angry… I wonder what gave you the idea you could spend two months of your allowance on some baseball collector’s item… Which makes it sort of strange that Mikleo should be here working so soon as your tutor… I wonder who’s being punished, really…”

Sorey felt nervous that Mikleo was beginning to be a recurrent topic, but he was quite relieved to find that there was nothing to contradict in what Rose and Alisha just said—especially if those things seemed to explain things so conveniently. Still, lying was not exactly something he felt comfortable with, celebrity or not. But right now, he couldn’t be less grateful for the chance to avoid needless explanations.

“Uh, I’m not so sure myself, Alisha… All I can say is I’m just so happy Gramps isn’t that crazy mad with me anymore… And, uh, Mikleo seemed okay starting today… After that week-long reprieve, we both have a lot of ground to cover with midterms just around the corner…”

“I see.” Alisha seemed satisfied with that and smiled, her beautiful topaz-green eyes brimming with nothing less than serene contentment.

Rose puffed her cheeks impatiently behind Sorey as her gaze clearly saw through Alisha’s child-like admiration for their common childhood friend. _Oh geez, what are you waiting for you stupid dork! If you pass up this chance, Sorey, I’m gonna skin you alive like a potato, scalp you like corn, and pour hot, melted butter all over you! Or maybe boiling you alive would be just as good…_

As Sorey averted his eyes to look at the balcony where the moonlight seemed to cast columns of soft, blue light, and Rose, for some reason, followed the direction of that gaze, she felt something uncanny, like a flash of epiphany after a strange, disturbing dream… like a quiet warning that something is bound to happen or change tonight…

And the feel of things changing isn’t something that felt good this time…

“Uh, Rose…? Is it all right if Sorey and I…?”

“Whoa, I haven’t seen the princess _this_ determined before!” Rose laughed exaggeratedly, scratching the back of her head. “Uh, you just whistle or holler if Sheppard here suddenly turns into a big bad wolf and nibbles you away, Alish… I sure don’t want my good, flawless friend being savored by an undeserving brat… err… I could’ve said ‘rat,’ you know…”

Rose couldn’t even apologize properly, finding herself breathless half-way through it all. _What’s wrong with me?_

“Rose?” Alisha smiled, one arm akimbo. “Don’t embarrass Sorey, all right?”

“Fine, fine, I’m the bad guy, have fun, sheesh… It’s not like I’d even think of getting in the way. If I were you, though, I’d get a room…”

“Rose!!!” Both Alisha and Sorey had to shout in chorus.

“All right, all right, I’m off, poof… just a blustering wind turned into a pathetic breeze right now… going, going… gone!”

Sorey and Alisha were finally alone.

“Uh, Sorey…” Alisha wrapped her silk scarf tighter around her shoulders but she dropped one end of it and Sorey just caught it in time. He wound it around her shoulders, trying not to let even the tip of his finger touch her needlessly.

Alisha smiled. Then as Sorey was about to step back, she put one hand over his shoulder and leaned closer, letting their chests touch.

Sorey didn’t have time to guess what was going on in her mind as he felt something wet and soft press themselves on his lips.

Alisha was kissing him… And the kiss was no ordinary kiss. It was deep, lingering, and full of soft, calm, innocent tenderness.

It was the kind of passion and kindness that would have melted the knees of another guy…

Sorey suddenly wished he wasn’t the one… the one she decided to give this kiss to…

He held her away by the shoulder and tried to catch the shimmering gaze that made Alisha so beautiful… so perfect and flawless in almost every way…

He whispered her name between breaths, knowing this may be the last time he could or would ever do that…

Because she was not the one… not the perfection that holds his heart and soul... not the beauty that drives him to despair if there is any chance he might never see her again…

“Sorey… you don’t have to say anything… I mean… I know it’s too soon…”

“Alisha…” Sorey shook his head quietly, calmly, and though his heart was racing, his mind was as crystal-clear and certain as rain. “I have to be honest… I… I… think we should just… let our engagement go…”

Alisha froze. What was Sorey really trying to say? Is there some way he could just say what needed to be said… what she needed to hear the most?

“Alisha… I’m so sorry… but I should’ve been honest from the very beginning…”

“Right… right… of course,” Alisha smiled brightly, trying to wrestle enough courage to get through this without losing the pride that was the only thing left within her. “It’s something I should have expected… I mean…”

Sorey looked down at his feet only to see their shadows stretched against the distant light of the moon flickering hazily from behind drifting clouds. “It’s my fault… you don’t have to say anything if it makes you feel uncomfortable…”

“No. It’s probably for the best. You’re right, Sorey… It’s… it’s just like this…”

She lifted her face and with as much cheer as she could muster in one breath, smiled at him—like there was nothing wrong.

Without that pride she would have fallen, crumbled, cried like a desperate child…

But no, it doesn’t take a broken heart to make her realize when a battle has already been lost, when it needs to be surrendered without compromises, when its enduring traces must be relegated to footnotes… written in order to be forgotten… like a faded history... desperately forgotten no matter how eagerly remembered…

But feelings are moved by instincts and impulses not by the calculating wisdom of the mind. Her feelings struggled to be rational, to be reasonable and proud and confident… to take things in stride, rather than to react on pure emotions.

But her heart and body didn’t agree with that… couldn’t accept that as part of who she really was or ever could be.

Her hand moved and before Alisha knew it, she had given Sorey a resounding slap on his left cheek.

In the darkness of shadows misting, shifting, shrouding the star-lit, moon-lit sky but only for a moment, someone stood there and saw everything from the balcony…

For the first time in forever—if ever there was such a thing as that—Mikleo wanted to forget and disappear… to fall from the edge of a precipice that leads to a bottomless nothingness… where even the worst memories would be afraid to go…

Because that slap shook something in him… like the sharp, terrible sound of something that was coming undone, something in him broke to unleash a terrible secret… like a deep, dark, beast roused itself from a long, undisturbed slumber to howl a discordant, dreadful note of despair…

In Mikleo’s mind, memories swirled, flitted away like wisps of smoke, hazy but visible… In those memories, he saw Sorey and himself as they were, painted under the glassy light of the pale moon and its even paler stars…

He saw this courtyard as it was back then… dressed in red bows and ribbons and golden wreaths…

He remembered the hand that slapped that same cheek so hard he could still feel the sting and the pain on his palm…

That terrible fire… the wet snow falling around them…

And before that… the shame that Sorey must have seen… must have known…

Those hands that grabbed him, touched him… that man who tortured him and made a plaything of him...

Those hands that made him feel filthy and unclean…

It seemed ironic that darker shadows aren't enough to hide darker truths.

In that moment Mikleo realized one thing about himself: someone like him, someone as pitiful as him can only depend on other people’s strength to cover up their weakness.

More so if that person who wanted to protect you knew your weakness, your dirty, little shame.

Mikleo looked away from the scene below the balcony, across the shadows under the flickering light of that haunting moon…

He needed to get away… away from Sorey… just as he needed to run away from his tainted memories…

Because if there’s anything in the world that can’t be forgiven… it’s the memory buried in someone else’s mind… the memory you’re not even allowed to forget because it would always be remembered, be reflected in someone else’s eyes.

Like the image of a past that not only belonged to him, but to Sorey…

A past that spoke of nothing but despair and the depraved, the worst of everything.

And for which reason Mikleo might never be able to forgive Sorey even if there is nothing to apologize for.

 

 

 **o)------------o)O(o------------(o**  

 

 


	7. Crimson Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorey and Alisha settle matters of the heart.
> 
> Eizen gains new techniques, weapons, and a new relationship...
> 
> Sorey and Mikleo's feelings will be put to the test.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for leaving kudos! I didn't know it will take me this long to update... Expect more entanglements, battle elements and relationship fluff and angst because this writer cannot write anything but those (unfortunately). And about Eizen's song here... I did mention before that I love his character and I feel like he loves Edna deeply--in whatever way you want to interpret that. And it's the kind of song I imagine he'd sing to her as his spirit lingers while Edna was quietly mourning his death. 
> 
> All the events in the game/canon version is taken as is, in this fic. That includes all character deaths and battle scenes. I only added names for new places that I can't borrow from the original without running into complications, so... that's why I have Lamorack and Tintagel, Avalonia, etc.
> 
> You'd find these names in the history books explaining the background of the Arthurian legends/myths. I'm a ruthless borrower myself... :D
> 
> Again, thanks for your patience and support! Have a great week! The next chapter will be updated sooner I hope...
> 
> DISCLAIMER: The original story behind Tales of Zestiria and Tales of Zestiria the X belongs to Bandai-Namco and Ufotable respectively. Since the writer makes no profit from this labor of love and, in fact, struggles against shame and hopeless obsession every time she has to write an additional chapter for her self-pleasure and that of others like her, she respectfully makes a plea against any law suit. :D
> 
> Obsession has no shame, by the way. You've been warned. :D

 

 

**o)------------o)O(o------------(o**

 

_How do you numb your skin..._

_After the warmest touch?_

_How do you slow your blood..._

_After the body rush?_

_How do you free your soul..._

_After you’ve found a friend?_

_How do you teach your heart it’s a crime..._

_To fall in love again?_

 

_Oh, you probably won’t remember me_

_It’s probably ancient history_

_I’m one of the chosen few_

_Who went ahead and fell for you_

_I’m out of vogue, I’m out of touch_

_I fell too fast, I feel too much_

_I thought that you might have…_

_Some advice to give…_

_On how to be… i_ _nsensitive…_  

 

-originally by **Jann Arden** , “Insensitive”; cover by **Alisha Diphda** ,

from the album **_Breathless: Journeys of the Heart_**

 

**o)------------o)O(o------------(o**

 

 

Mikleo just wanted to get away by any means possible…

Even if he knew that letting himself be swallowed up by this psychological quicksand was just a means of escape and definitely a displacement strategy. After all, even if he can analyze and over-think his own way of thinking, there’s no way he can beat these mind games with his own mind, which is more difficult than fighting fire with fire. All he cared to believe was that Sorey must have known all along, how could he not? Now everything made perfect sense… why Sorey seemed so casual and friendly and too familiar with him from the very start. When he told Mikleo that it felt as if they’ve known each other all their lives, he wasn’t just spouting a romantic cliché. He knew the truth all along, knew the script by heart; he kept the truth to himself and led Mikleo on, perhaps relishing every second of his small victories…

Still, it was all his fault. Sorey Sheppard couldn't have used anything to his advantage if he wasn’t pathetic enough to let Sorey in the first place. He was a victim of his own casual ignorance, the most ruthless of all cosmic ironies…

“M-Mikleo? Mikleo!”

 _That_ voice was unmistakably familiar. Did Sheppard know he had seen everything? And what of Alisha? Was Sorey _that_ insensitive to call his attention here and stir up something that might roil things out of control even more? From what he had just seen and heard, he could surmise that Alisha must be facing her own inner demons now… torn between pride and hurt and everything in between.

Besides, Alisha must have been struggling with too much pain to be able to suppress everything in that slap. Doubtless, even in hurting Sorey, she was all guilt and remorse, as if she had hurt herself a hundred times over when she slapped Sorey on the cheek.

And that means only one thing. She still has feelings for him _and_ might continue to have feelings… far beyond forgiving and forgetting, just like all other could have beens…

“Mikleo, look… I—I can explain everything!”

 _Are you sure?_ Mikleo turned away, pretending he hadn't heard anything. He was never really good at hiding his emotions, but it was a habit that grew on him... a practical tool he had often used to save his battered ego from embarrassment and humiliation. But Mikleo knew that any rationalization at this point is just... pointless. He was hurt and denying it merely confirms it. Right now a tight knot was twisting in his stomach, making him nauseous.

Mikleo winced, trying to pull himself together with a deep breath. _Aren't you overestimating yourself this time, Sorey?_ _Everything sure sounds a lot. A_ _nd I'm afraid I can't stay long enough to hear it..._

“Sorey? W-what do you mean?” Alisha sounded confused and surprised, absolutely lost as to why Sorey seemed nervous and panicky just because Mikleo had seen something intimate and private. After all didn’t everyone in school assume she and Sorey have a romantic relationship going despite all the rumors? It wasn’t like Alisha was oblivious; like everybody else, she has heard all the juicy gossip about Sorey: his long-list of dates and sexual conquests, all those girls he had casually made-out with and who just seemed too eager to make that public. Alisha had endured all of that and accepted the celebrity playboy image that was indelibly stamped on her fiancé’s reputation.

But of course, there were moments when she wished he would clear the air himself, reassure her somehow… When that didn’t happen she made up her mind to trust Sorey and believe in him no matter what. And it wasn’t like no one cared about what she thought. Gramps, Lailah, Zaveid, even Dezel made it clear to her how scandalous gossip about Sorey seemed as inevitable as second skin: they boost his popularity and help his career but take it too seriously and it would definitely get to you. So Alisha had braced herself for the worst when she decided to transfer to Zestiria. Rose still couldn’t forgive her of course; they’ve been going to the same school since nursery until, well, she and Sorey had gotten engaged and Alisha decided to follow Sorey…

And now she would have to endure the sight, the sound, the scent and feel of him being too close for comfort and yet too far for reaching and holding… the agony of having to be reminded that some things are just never meant to be from the beginning…

Because real life is more complex… because unlike stories there are no chapters you can rewrite as you please… no prologues and epilogues to seal plot holes and expectations… no writers who can see though every thought and motive, or create pseudo-romantic scenarios to fuel some die-hard fantasy...

In the real world, there are no fireworks to accompany kisses… no sappy background music to prolong the sweet, sensual moment…

In love stories, magical moments are all about daring rescues and dauntless heroes sweeping the heroine off her feet… followed by the promise of a life-ever-after that seems perfect in every way…  

But the real world can only offer ironies, life’s brutal daggers that spell out the true meaning of pain… where adversary becomes the hero of the day offering wisdom in the place of happiness and its surreal promises.

And here she is, watching an irony unfold right before her very eyes…

“Mikleo, please, we need to talk!”

But Mikleo was not about to wait for truths to be revealed—not at his expense. If anything, truths are things that matter only after every beautiful lie has lost its meaning…

At least that’s what Mikleo thought of it.

Alisha saw Sorey move out of reach…

“Sorey?”

She managed to hold him by the silky sleeve of his arm. But when he looked over his shoulder at her, she saw for the first time how his eyes shimmered with frightening emotions; it was like seeing desperation and truth and misery all spiraling out of control and yet being suppressed with a powerful will from within.

“I’m sorry… but Mikleo and I…”

From Sorey’s peripheral vision, he could see that the balcony above was empty. Mikleo was nowhere in sight…

Sorey felt his chest heave with a shock of pain and realized right away what he wanted, what he needed to do. If his heart can hurt this much with the mere thought of Mikleo leaving… if Mikleo can make him feel this miserable as if he is all the air he needed to breathe… then that only means one thing.

He would have to be with Mikleo no matter what. Hellions, demons, vampires, dark magic or witchcraft—who cares what else they throw his way? He would rather die fighting the odds than let Mikleo walk out of his life again…

Even if he had to chase Mikleo to the farthest ends of the universe and back, even if they chain his spirit to the deepest hells, he would never give up finding Mikleo and being with him…

Definitely not here, not now or ever… as hopelessly insane as it might sound…

Alisha’s topaz-green eyes have never looked so baffled. “Sorey, I don’t understand…”

Sorey looked at Alisha, touching her hand slightly. “I know you will someday… just can’t explain it right now…”

“Explain… what?”

“I need to find Mikleo before he can run away from me again... like he always does…” Sorey looked down and for a single second, Alisha wondered if she was talking to the same Sorey she thought she had known for the longest time.

Sorey looks up suddenly and meets her gaze, and she inhales with a sudden blush, as if that gaze is meant to be reassuring, to put down all her doubts.

“Alisha… right now, I'd admit... there are a lot of things I don’t understand about me… as if I’ve been sleeping for the longest time not knowing what was really going on, and I’ve just woken up for the first time… And now that I’m awake, all I know is… well, this sounds really weird but…”

Sorey pauses as if in desperate need for the right words, and Alisha’s heart quickens—as if any moment now her world might stop revolving, might stand still and watch everything she believed unmake itself. “Ever since Mikleo and I met eight years ago, I’ve never really seriously liked anyone else but him… and that’s why I have to go… because I don’t want to keep losing him like this…”

Alisha clenched one fist beside her hip hard until the knuckles were white. It was frustrating to hear Sorey say such things. The question that nagged at her the most was, _Why only now?_  Didn’t he realize that the same experience, which felt so novel, so truth-revealing to him was exactly the same for her? That she felt the same way for him the first time they’ve met? Did it never even strike him as odd that she never showed any interest in anybody else, never even entertained any other boy’s attentions?

Did it never occur to him how she valued their friendship, regarded it as the cornerstone that made life tolerable, even somewhat happy, because all these years, he nurtured her confidence, supported her with the warmth and comfort of his smiles, his quiet strength, his reassuring tenderness that made her want to stay in his sunshine forever?

Because just like all those princesses she has read about who believed in one true love, she also believed that no other person could ever come close to having her heart the way Sorey had it all this time…

And now, no matter how she tried to understand what he was saying, she felt hurt. She felt disposable, someone set aside rudely without even the slightest residual feelings to give comfort. Love and justice don’t go together for certain, but saying love is blind and all things are fair in love and war doesn’t make things more acceptable. People can hurt no matter how many apologies or right explanations are given… because what anyone feels is always quicker than logic or truth or common sense. And that’s what choices are all about too. They don’t care about right or wrong… not all the time at least.

Although saying _that_ just now makes it even more painful… a way of accepting Sorey’s way of thinking.

Sorey smiled a little too sadly as if he had guessed what was going on in her mind. But even when his emerald eyes looked at her with guilt and shame, she felt neither hesitation nor uncertainty from them. On the contrary, his guilt seems to confirm nothing less than resolve… like he had finally made a decision no tears or argument could ever change.

Sorey tugged Alisha’s hand as gently as he could off his sleeve, his fingers lingering, but not with the same feelings, the same warmth she had grown accustomed to—or maybe imagined to be there. “Alisha, knowing I'm the most stupid jerk and lowlife who’s ever lived wouldn’t excuse any of my mistakes… for realizing everything too late… That’s why, to be honest… I _can’t_ and _won’t_ even ask you to forgive me… I know I don’t deserve it… and probably _never_ _would_ deserve it no matter what I do to make it up to you… But it’s something I have to accept and live with…”

He smiles a little—a sad, painful smile that glimmered with just a single spark of hope. “And… if it's possible for us to be friends again... I’d look forward to that every single day, Alisha…”

Alisha smiled weakly. At least Sorey is still the same Sorey in that sense—his resilience, his capacity to move his goalposts at every obstacle, accepting his limitations without any insecurities whatsoever. Maybe it was that quality that made him so endearing…

She couldn’t help but blush at the thought that despite her anger some part of her—a greater part of her—still loved the best part of him and did not lose sight of what he truly is that gave him that special place in her heart. Still, it’s not like she can even tell him all these things… because a woman’s heart knows how to lock away its most precious treasure, those heartfelt secrets that give her some measure of pride and self-respect that cannot be gained any other way.

So Alisha smiled a little and hoped her voice wouldn’t quiver all that much. “Being rash and careless as always, Sorey?”

Sorey shook his head. “Nah, I know I am in a lot of ways, but not this time, I hope… I guess all my life I’ve always thought that giving up something for other things that really matter is just the way things can work out. But _that_ has to change, I know that now…”

Sorey meets her gaze with an intense shimmer, not flinching this time with guilt or self-deprecation. “I realized that there are things I can live with, things I can endure even if nothing will work out for sure… like being hated by everyone— _that_ would _definitely_ be a pain... But no matter how bad it gets, I’d rather have that than give up the only person that makes life worth living… as tough as hell that may be...”

Try as she might, Alisha can't even look away. She knows he speaks the truth… because she feels that way too… somehow, she knows love feels that way.

And with a simple gesture as if Sorey believed they could both finally let go, he gave Alisha a reassuring smile then ran back into the mansion, leaving her staring after him in wordless silence.

As if heaven understood her pain, soft raindrops began to fall on her cheeks.

Although Alisha knew the feel of rain like the back of her hand, right now, she could hardly tell the difference between the awning sky and her clouded heart.

**o-----)o(-----o**

 

Rose had been absent-mindedly staring at the portraits along the hallway when she noticed someone coming down the stairs. She looked up and thought that if she never believed in angels or gods or celestial beings she’d heard in Sunday school, she must be stupid.

Because a lithe, limber, sloe-eyed, silver-haired angel with the smoothest, palest, creamy white skin was about to walk past her… with that irresistible scent that could mesmerize even rock statues.

“Uh… wait!”

Mikleo paused in mid-step but didn’t even bother to look over his shoulder or turn around. It wasn’t like he was being rude; his body just felt nonexistent right now. He could have been some disembodied spirit or some creature among the living dead and he wouldn’t even care. Nothing mattered now… except the thought of getting away… from everything… from Sorey most of all…

“Look… uh… I heard Sorey found a tutor… you must be him, am I right?”

Mikleo didn’t have the heart to even nod an assent to that.

Rose felt odd. Nothing prepared her for this moment, when someone so heartbreakingly attractive, so achingly beautiful—reminding her of that painting of _Guinevere_ as the Lady of Summer, innocence, beauty, and desire all in one—was standing right there within reach, ignoring her like hell. It was so damn frustrating she could barely keep herself from _not_ talking to get his attention.

She shifted on her feet and with one arm akimbo leaned closer to him, noticing for the first time how he was barely taller than she was… and more slender, more delicately shaped? She couldn’t help but notice his sophisticated feminine features, which seemed more intimidating than his silence…

Rose cleared her throat.

“Uh, stupid me, of course who else can you be? I mean it’s not like Sorey to invite just anyone over… He’s kinda picky and well, to be honest, for all that popularity hype that makes his public image seem so cool, he’s really a shut in—you know—he’s the type who takes a million years to get comfy with someone… so he’s got very few friends really… and that means me, Sergei, and Alisha… it’s been just the three of us for centuries now…”

Mikleo couldn’t say anything to that though he had never even suspected it in the least. He had casually assumed Sorey Sheppard to be the most normal guy in the universe. With every girl falling head-over-heels for him, there’s no way a guy like him would ever be lonely… no way he could obsess with anyone when there are dozens just waiting around the corner for a chance to be his temporary distraction.

Besides, why is this red-haired girl whose name he doesn’t even care to know at this moment volunteering this kind of information to a complete stranger like him? Does he look like a fanboy to her who’s dying to know every bit of Sorey’s personal life? Did she think _that_ was the reason he allowed himself to be here? To be his slave, his tutor, his one-night-stand…

Mikleo felt tears stinging his eyes. The last time he had felt so messed up was that time when a girl he had liked back in middle-school asked him to help her out… She told him about an older brother’s friend who owned a café and needed part-timers. She convinced him that age was no problem… fifteen couldn't be that bad, and nobody had to know about breaking little rules like that anyway… after all, it would only be for two weekends. The pay was supposed to be decent enough too…

The café turned out to be an underground club… and before he knew it, he was in someone’s bedroom, naked, and two guys were taking photos of him like that…

He had been drugged, that much seemed obvious. When he woke up he couldn’t even tell what kinds of things had been done to him when he was unconscious… He had hoped, of course, that he wasn’t sexually violated to the point of rape. But the feeling of being taken advantage of was just as horrible. It made him feel like an abused animal, a slave forced to humiliate himself by allowing anyone who could pay to take shots of him in sexually provocative ways, to touch him in private places because he was too helpless, too afraid to fight back. Much worse, one of the guys continued to stalk him in school… and when he refused to go out with him, the crazy bastard uploaded one of those sleazy, nude photos of him in the Internet…

Mikleo had begged his friend, that girl he really liked back then, to talk this guy out of it, they must be acquaintances after all, Mikleo presumed… but she laughed at his naivety, told him how she had hated him for so long, how she thought of him as a narcissistic snob, a mister-perfect, smart-ass know-it-all who deserved a little taste of gravity. He couldn’t understand her hate… until he found out that she liked _that_ guy, but it turned out he wasn’t into girls. She only tried to get close to Mikleo to get this guy to be jealous, to make him angry, to get his attention because ever since Mikleo and his mom moved into the neighborhood, he had been asking her to help them meet somehow…

She wasn’t the one who admitted everything though. Mikleo had to find out all of that from the guy’s confession—the same one who took photos of him, the one who stalked him in school and interrupted him and Sorey at the café. Now that all his memories have returned, there is no way he could be mistaken…

But if people thought love confessions of any kind could boost one’s self-esteem, for Mikleo that was hardly the case. Having someone obsess over you like that even when you hardly know each other was scary, and it made him feel nauseous. But what was even more terrifying was the realization that someone could hate you in secret for all those things you didn’t choose to be… that you could be hated _not_ for anything you’ve done or failed to do, but for who you are. And that includes your likes and dislikes, your unconscious habits and everyday way of doing things, your beliefs and principles, which some people find intolerable even if these things have no impact or influence on their private lives.

In other words, what that girl felt for him was nothing less than absolute prejudice—a distorted, self-righteous rage over things that did not agree with her precious ideological truths, her stereotypical model of what-is-right in the world.

As if anyone had any monopoly on reality or truth…

And, as he himself has witnessed, that kind of antagonism can be so destructive, so nihilistic to the point of wishing someone all the misery and unhappiness in the world. What hurt the most was the fact that he even liked this girl a lot… had considered her as one of those people that came closest to being his first best friend. To think that she plotted everything before leaving school… a get-away plan that was supposed to leave his heart and soul in knotted tangles. And those psychological knots are just too tight to be unraveled in a few years… the kind that can give even the most confident, self-assured human being suicidal depression and anxiety issues for life…

It was a good thing he had a mom who trusted him and believed only in him… Through it all his mom’s faith never wavered, never faltered. She alone was the person who had never let him down no matter what humiliating scenarios he had gotten himself into… how many epic failures he had committed that could not stay forgotten for very long…

The person he should be with right now…

Mikleo meekly glanced at the tall red-head in faded jeans and white, frilly, off-shoulder blouse standing in front of him. Despite her feminine attractiveness, her poise was intimidatingly masculine, tomboyish if stereotyping wasn’t so rude… In fact the moment he had taken a step past her, he felt her shadow crossing his own, felt his nerves bristle slightly at her sudden proximity…

In two seconds she was holding him by the neckline of his own shirt.

“Hey, I’m talking to you, Mikleo! You think you can just walk in and out of here as you please? Is that what you plan on doing to my friend too?”

Mikleo didn’t even try to struggle, knowing how pointless it would be. “You shouldn’t make careless assumptions about people you hardly know.”

“Oh, yeah? You’re right, _heck_ , I don’t know you and nobody has even introduced us yet… But as stupid as this sounds, Sorey must like you so much to let you anywhere near him! Gods, you think I didn’t see you come out of his bedroom? Do you think you can fool anyone with that smug look of yours?”

Mikleo waited for that moment to break free from her hold. “You’re just like _her_ , aren’t you? You think you understand everything about me… Then go ahead, say what you like, I’ve heard that kind of talk before…”

“What?” Rose was incredulous. “Acting like the victim already? I wonder what Sorey found so special about you…”

“Oh, hey, sorry, did I just miss my part of the script? And here I thought afternoon soaps are a thing of the past!”

Mikleo looked away from the sound of the voice as Rose stepped back to put some distance between them. Zaveid smirks as he peers into Mikleo’s stony face then shifts his attention to Rose, swinging an arm around her slender shoulders.

“Hey, Rosie, why are you gettin’ so upset about Mik-boy here? Is there something goin’ on between you two that I should know about? Thought love squares and triangles are dying TV tropes these days. Though if you decide to wrestle this one out I’m game! I always love wrestling… between hot babes most especially!”

Mikleo glared daggers at Zaveid but it was Rose who elbowed him hard and shrugged his arm away with a disgusted scowl. “Babe? You _dare_ call me babe you-"

"Uh, don't tell me... you don't have that word in your independent woman's guide to feminism, do you, my lovely holiness?"

"Pervert."

"Uh, okay, that sounds like a confirmation. Just my kind of vocabulary to be honest!"

"Seriously Zaveid! Is there anything else in that poor-excuse-for-a-brain of yours other than women and sex?"

"Hey, blame it on the universe if you like. At least I'm _understood_."

"Seriously, besides you there's nothing more I despise than spoiled brats who think they’ve got more problems than the rest of the universe!”  

Zaveid in his usual, careless, swaggering posture simply laughed at that, crossing his arms over his chest. Even with a quick, sidelong glance Rose could clearly see that he was wearing a thin, casual, V-neck shirt that didn’t fail to show his brawny chest and tight abdominal muscles, while a black, leather jacket that matched his silver-spangled, knee-high boots was carelessly slung on his right shoulder. The appeal was so gung-ho that Rose found it impossible not to be slightly curious.

“Are you heading out? You seem like just about ready to go clubbing.”

“Yeah, well, until I heard the racket you guys were making! Sheesh, don’t teenagers know how to have fun on a Saturday night these days?”

Just then Mikleo decided he couldn’t take it. He didn’t want sympathy, nor did he have any energy to explain himself to anyone. All he wanted was to get away from all these voices that were beginning to crowd him and suffocate him…

But even Zaveid was relentless.

“Hey, dude, you think I’d let you slip away just like that? Rosie here has a point… Sorey isn’t the type of person who lets anyone get too close… and you can guess he’s not the type of person who easily lets go… not with people he _really_ cares about at least…”

Mikleo ignored that and continued walking past Zaveid and Rose, but someone or something... a shadow, just moved right in front of him. Even without looking up his body knew, could not help but react with that unconscious knowledge of who it was. Even when he wanted to his feet refused to budge, refused to sidestep it like he had easily done everyone else…

_“M-Mikleo…”_

The voice was soothing, gentle like the sound of moving water over white, smooth rocks… like the sound of wind whistling through blades of grass and wild spring flowers…

For some reason Mikleo couldn’t get those images out of his head as everybody’s attention shifted to Sorey.

“Mikleo… hey… I… I said I can explain… I mean… it’s not like Alisha and I have anything going on…”

“Hey, Sheppard, w-what did you just say?” Rose’s face burned like iron that had just been lifted from the hottest coals. “Are you kidding me? You mean, you intend to dump your fiancée and be serious with _him_?”

Mikleo found himself putting up a cocky grin for show. “Well, at least someone agrees with my observation. It’s fun hanging out with you Sheppard, but… I’d no intention of being the big actor in your show… just here to be an audience. So if you’ll excuse me…”

Sorey moved in step with him, blocking his path completely. “No, not _this_ time, Mikleo!”

His shoulders suddenly felt heavy as Sorey put one hand on each. “When I said I wanted you to stay, I meant it in _every_ possible way! And if you think I care about what people say, hell, I _don’t_! You’re the one I want to be with and I _won’t_ let anyone—”

“Oh my god, I’m _sooo_ late and the boss is gonna kill me for sure!” Zaveid’s loud, grating voice screeched through the halls, cutting off what Sorey was about to say. Even Mikleo seemed to have been completely roused from his mental stupor as Zaveid clucked his tongue and grunted his complaints away.

“Now you guys really ruined it, crap, now I have to take you two along so the boss have a reason to hear me out! I mean, damn, sneaking a drop-dead gorgeous celebrity into a club with a looker who can give him a run for his money is what? Every club manager’s holier-than-holy fantasy!”

“W-what???” Mikleo and Sorey found themselves screeching back in disbelief. Mikleo looked away with a blush when he realized that he and Sorey were now standing shoulder to shoulder, with those large, emerald eyes of his looking horribly shocked and distracted. It was almost funny…

“Hey, are you taking those two out on a forced date or something? No way I’m gonna let you, all right! You can’t do this to Alisha and she doesn’t deserve this kind of—”

“Hey, if I may interrupt, _Miss Scarlet_ …” Zaveid drawled in that Rhett Butler way of his that seems to say I’m-such-an-irresistible-bachelor-so-pay-attention, making Rose flinch a little. But because his serious, thoughtful expression didn’t blend well with his exaggeratedly suave posture, everyone ended up giving him disconcerted looks as he cleared his throat and struggled with something _profound_ to say.

“As I was about to say,” Zaveid grinned, winking at Rose, “you’re Alisha’s true friend, aren’t you?”

Rose winced. “Is that news to you?”

“Fine, I was getting to that part! What I’m trying to say is, friends know better than to lie to each other, right? Some truths are scary, I know, but nothing’s half as scary as seeing the real deal in front of you and just walking away from it, pretending it wasn’t there. Besides… no one has any right to make people put up a façade to keep someone from hurting… I mean… nobody _else_ has to get hurt just because someone _great_ out there—best friend or whoever—is having a piece of hell… I may not be a counselor or a great guy who’d offer his shoulder to cry on, but…”

Zaveid slings his leather jacket over his other shoulder, then flashes Rose a cocky grin sideways. “As my own buddy Eizen says, _each to his own pain_ … nothing’s so good or bad that lasts forever anyway…”

With that, Zaveid smiles wistfully, as if some secret memory just happened to cross his mind, then shifts his gaze to the two boys staring at him, mouths gaping. “Anyway, you two… you have to come with me. As for you Scarlet…”

Zaveid wriggled his eyebrows at her for comic effect. “You have one _true_ love to worry about and it looks like this might be your perfect chance to show her what you can do…”

Mikleo wasn’t convinced though, and stepped out of Sorey’s path. “Whatever you want to do with your lives is your problem. I’m out of here for good.”

“Oh, no Mik-boy, you’re coming with me and Sorey. You can’t sit this one out… not while cool ole Zaveid _the love doctor_ is here!”

“Zaveid…” Sorey interrupted, blocking the hand that was reaching for Mikleo’s shoulder. “Please, just let me settle this my way…”

“Your way?” Zaveid huffed like an impetuous older brother stuck with a stubborn, immature younger sibling. “Are you kidding me? You wanna know how many centuries it took you to even give this guy a simple, friendly hug, huh? No way I’m gonna let you do it your way, Sorey! Just tag along, unless you want me to be alone with cute Mik-boy here so I can teach him the love doctor’s ways _the way_ I want!”

“Oh please…” Mikleo groaned. “I’m coming if you just put a lid on the love doctor crap. And I thought Sorey’s the worst goosebumps expert around here.”

“Hey, Mikleo’s _coming_! Hear that Sorey?”

Sorey punched Zaveid not-so-lightly on the stomach. “Hey, no jokes like that around him, all right?”

Zaveid scratched the back of his head. “Aww… I didn’t know how cute you could be when you’re jealous. Oww, fine, fine, sheesh, do you have to punch me more than once?!”

Sorey walked behind Mikleo, right between him and Zaveid. “And keep your hands to yourself, okay? Wherever you’re taking us, just make sure it’s safe enough because if anyone as much as lay a finger on Mikleo…”

“Yeah I know, private property, no trespassing, the angel’s untouchable, got that! Never knew I have a solicitous lover-boy here, considering the fact that most girls complain about a serious lack of ideal-boyfriend types these days!” Zaveid’s laughter was hard not to take lightly as he ogled both boys with knowing looks.

Mikleo sighed. “Can you two just stop? It’s annoying, really.”

“By the way, Zaveid, how long is this gonna take? Mikleo needs to rest… he’s just come from the hospital in case you’re forgetting…”

Zaveid gave Sorey a pat on the shoulder. “Now, now hold on to your breaks, Sorey buddy! No need to rush the evolution from possessive, love-sick _boyfriend_ to overprotective _husband_ in just one night! Besides, I guarantee you, what you and Mik-boy are about to experience is nothing short of extraordinary! In fact, you might have to thank me later for giving you a taste of the most fun and exciting part of your teenage lives yet!”

 

**o-----)o(-----o**

 

“You brought two teenagers to my strip club? Not to mention bringing _the only two people_ in the universe Zenrus might kill us for? ARE YOU EVEN THINKING, ZAVEID?!”

“Hey, Eizen, buddy, relax, come on! These two lovebirds have a problem only _you_ can solve!"

“What? You need someone to translate the _Kama Sutra_ for those two? Hell, I don’t know anyone who needs some lousy subtitles to understand sex…”

“Oh god, you may look every bit like a young, drop-dead, gorgeous, consummate professor, but I didn’t bring these two here so you could give some droll lecture about sex being the universal language, c’mon! Kids these days are just way _too_ smart for those kinds of kinky talk! I was kinda hoping you have something ingenious up your sleeve, I mean something serious, and fun, and creative, yeah that’s it!”

“Creative, huh?” Eizen was livid. “You want me to think of something creative in five seconds? How about creative murder? Starting with you?”

“I’m fucking serious dude! I mean, think of something!”

“Crap, nothing’s changed about you, Zaveid! No wonder my sister hates you like the fungus growing on a fungus on a mold that’s stuck on the dirt under her boot heels!”

“Yeah, that sounds just like Edna… hating the people she _loves_ the most! Like brother like sister, ehh?”

“Who said I even like you?”

“See? You’re too transparent.”

“What do I have to do this time to get you to shut up, Zaveid?”

“Why me? You want me to strip? I can be real quiet while doing that.”

“Hell no! Not in my club at least! You wanna scare all the hellions away?”

“Whoa, really? I think you just gave me a bright idea right there, my friend! Now, if you’d only let me grab a microphone…”

Eizen gave a low grunt. “Do what you want, but if things get messy, don’t blame me. My _animus_ will deal with it the way it knows how, and that’s just saying how little control I have over that kind of power.”

Zaveid gave the inconspicuous, crimson, crystal pendant tied around Eizen’s neck like a saltire a furtive glance. Although his weapon _Siegfried_ works in a slightly different way, he has a lot of respect for these ancient seraphic tools that accompanied their reawakening in this new world. Dezel has his own animus, for example, like that cross that he wears like a regular charm. And to think that being able to armatize used to be the most complicated and effective weapon against hellions in the past… fusing a seraph’s soul with that of a human vessel like the former Shepherd, who then transforms that soul into a unique weapon using his own spiritual life-force as ammunition, in much the same way a bullet powers a gun…

The only difference is that the Shepherd chooses to purify rather than kill… He chooses to save rather than make the final judgment over who lives and dies…

If only evil is worth saving this time…

Zaveid hated these trips down memory lane, especially when it means remembering someone left behind. He smiles through the glaring lights and the ringlets of smoke curling from the tip of Eizen’s cigarette. “Look, I know you’re the type who’s always prepared for the worst of the worst, as if you never expect much from life or anyone anyways. And though I’ve always liked that about you… I can’t help but wonder if it wouldn’t be a lot nicer if you had something to look forward to each day… like someone you could reach out to on occasions… even if it’s just a little girl who looks up to his brother like he’s the only creature out there worth living for…”

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I’m the same heartless, cold-blooded lizard who’s all right with anything, even losing the one and only family he could really call his own… Call it stubborn logic if you want, but I just can’t let Edna be involved in anything personal… even if my plan of revenge is more than just personal vendetta… As we both know, things are already way too complicated without people from our past lives just popping in, coming back to haunt us… And there’s nothing more I hate than being one of those odd memories that keep running like a broken record. Maybe some things about me haven’t changed at all in that sense… Until now, I’ve been fine with everything… even fighting all these mutated hellions, these demons who have ten times the strength of even a high-ranking seraph…”

Eizen lets a loop of smoke hang in the air a little longer as a bit of ash falls from the tip of his cigarette. Then he cocks an eyebrow at Zaveid sideways, letting his bangs fall over his eyes. “So tell me, why, for the sake of some personal feelings should I bother stirring up some dregs to change things I ain’t gonna live long enough to enjoy?”

Zaveid exhales to that, before letting a soundless chuckle pull his lips into a smile. “And here I thought I’ve got only one sick love story in my hands at the moment!”

“Shut up Zaveid. Unless you wanna be stripped naked without a belt to cover even a tiny inch of your arse.”

“Hell, now that would really scare your hellions outta here!”

“I don’t know if that’s even possible ‘cause as we speak we have at least fifteen and counting… Lust really drives them to these kinds of places… like flies they converge around every little thing that reeks of Malevolence, even if intimacy or the act itself has little to do with it. I think lust and prurient intentions are just a trigger that’s always there, just dormant in some subconscious corner of the mind. Intimate acts are just an expression but they’re hardly the real source that generates Malevolence. Of course, all of that is really beside the point. I thought the law of symmetry guarantees we’d have but a handful…”

“C’mon, since when have hellions been law-abiding citizens huh? Something tells me a big, nasty rodent has just risen from the ashes… one who can pretty damn well open a Gate too… ‘cause if there’s anything that can bring these saurian pests from the shadow pits it’s a talented Gate Weaver…”

Eizen cocks an eyebrow. “Gate Weaver, huh? Nice name. Almost sounds like a movie…”

“I know,” Zaveid snickers. “As much as I hate to consider it though, gate-weaving is a high-level seraphic arte that I’ve only seen used by Herald Knights, apart from a particular Shepherd I know… And you know what _else_ Herald Knights are capable of, right? Those purer-than-pure, holier-than-holy Leviathan bodyguards? I don’t know how that arte could’ve been stolen or copied by any of the Insidion’s Shadowlords but hell, I’d rather work with a thousand Shepherds than _any_ single one of Celestia’s angels… even if the gods have to crucify me…”

“Funny you should say that,” Eizen takes a deep breath into his cigarette, letting the smoke spiral out of his lips in one huff. “`Cause I’d like to see a gate-weaving demon spin a portal while I’m busy cutting its damn fingers off. And since I don’t have ears for the dead, I’d probably refrain from asking how he does it… ‘cause I’d rather hear him running out of breath… and making all those deliciously painful sounds… the kind that’s music to my ears…”    

“I’ve always known you have that side to you when you decided to put up this kind of business! Nothing like strippers and strip clubs to bait all of those monsters, huh? I really love your style… though I understand Zenrus prefers subtlety.”

Eizen lights another cigarette at that. “Yeah, well, having connections in all the right places sure helps keep those hellions under tight surveillance. Of course expect something like that from a high-ranking seraph… If not for Zenrus’s patient and scrupulous logic, we’d have more than scraps to worry about. To be honest, these demons are relentless… Their perversions are nothing like I’ve seen before… They can possess different vessels at will and mutate into all sorts of shapes and sizes, depending on the degree and amount of Malevolence they’ve sucked from their multiple victims. It’s worse than hell… worse than all the bloody fights we had back then, especially the way they imbibe _even_ human memories… copying them for pleasure and pain…”

Zaveid groaned. “Yeah, no need to remind me of all the horrible details! Human lust is weird but it’s tolerable, kinda erotic if you ask me… But demon lust is just macabre… all that wanton sucking and biting, and feeding, and driveling… I mean it’s just pushing mating and breeding to a whole new level of gross! But tonight, let’s keep our heads above the water and see if we can shake up those two boys. I wanna know how much Sorey is willing to stake to fight the ultimate battle he was born for…”

“Love is a torture, I’d give you that.” Eizen flicked the ashes of his cigarette.

“You know it and I know it. So where’s that stupid microphone?”

 

**o-----)o(-----o**

 

Sorey and Mikleo were lucky to get seats near the stage since the club looked like it would be full of people really soon. Of course the fact that there were poles at the center only gave Sorey less-than-subtle hints as to what kind of performance they could expect pretty soon. To be honest, it's not like he's sensitive when it comes to these things—even if gay clubs, strip clubs and those kinds of entertainment never did or could come close to any of the things he personally preferred. But right now, he has no energy to worry about that. All his attention is on Mikleo, and he can’t help but notice with a secret half-smile how cute Mikleo really looks when he’s trying too hard not to show how uncomfortable or flustered he really is…

Especially with the way his lavender eyes quietly, stealthily darted around corners and shadows with a mixture of curiosity, fascination, and fear, making them shimmer in that way that was making Sorey weak in the knees.

He’s really hopeless. Even in the dancing haze of lights where it is near-impossible to recognize even your own date, Sorey can only watch in awe at how different emotions flicker in Mikleo’s eyes like sunshine passing through slivers of colored glass, which diffuse into different hues depending on the light and angle of vision…

“Sorey? Is something the matter?”

He took the chance to move several inches closer to Mikleo, now that he seemed comfortable enough to start a conversation—well, Sorey was at least hoping for that. He flashed him a look of concern. “Uh, just a little worried about the time. Are you sure you’re not tired or sleepy yet?”

“Me? How about you? You seem to need just as much sleep as I do.”

“You’re the one who’s awfully pale, and that’s not something I can stop worrying about.”

Mikleo tried to steel himself against that kind of smooth talk. “Just stop, all right? I’m not gonna bounce back to health just because you’re concerned—I mean—I’m not implying you should be—”

This time, Mikleo felt strong, firm fingers squeeze his right shoulder tightly as Sorey’s arm pulled him closer, easing his back toward it. “Whether you're implying it or not, I want to be someone you can lean on, so I’ll stay right here. You can rest as much as you like, I won’t let anything touch you or hurt you, okay?”

Mikleo gave him a withering side glance. “Look who’s talking. Why don’t you apply your own rules then and keep your hands to yourself?”

“Well, since I’m your bodyguard for the night, I guess that means I’m free to decide what to do with your… uh… body… "

Sorey cuddled up to him.

"How convenient," Mikleo muttered, elbowing him away.

"That hurts you know," Sorey chuckled, not looking hurt at all. "Next time, I'll charge you with assault. The penalty ought to be serious enough."

"Is that so? Like how"

"You'd have to kiss every part that hurts. Then I'd have to kiss back every part I..." Sorey stopped, leaning in to whisper something in his ear.  

Mikleo’s ears burned. “Whatever. I don’t think I have the energy to argue all night. And here I thought Zaveid was big, bad, and weird. Now I know who’s the original...”

“I think calling me weird is a bit too much, but I'd get used to it, you'll see!” Sorey leaned back onto the soft, leather back cushions, making sure Mikleo was comfortably settled next to him, his head nestled softly right by his shoulder. As for Mikleo, there was really not much he could do. Try as he might to ignore it, it is easy to see and feel how gentle yet strong Sorey really is and how there seems to be a soothing persuasiveness about him that dissolves resistance easily like sugar in a hot, minty cup of coffee…

“Coffee shouldn’t be a crime…” Mikleo wasn’t aware he said that until the words slipped out of him.

Sorey chuckled, giving Mikleo a light, tender kiss on the top of his head. It almost made Mikleo feel as if he was a little kid who needed to be soothed and reassured, which wasn't bad at all, given his mood at the moment.

Sorey couldn't see his face, but he must have felt his ambivalence. “I know you're tired, and I'm wearing you out, and coffee's not good for you right now, but..." Sorey brushed his chin against Mikleo's hair, noisily breathing in his scent in a way that tickled Mikleo slightly.

Sorey laughed a little at Mikleo's effort to keep still. "I’d let you have the tiniest, sweetest cup of coffee in this part of the world when you wake up, I promise.”

Mikleo was too tired to refuse such sweet, coaxing words. He nodded and felt his head grow heavy, his eyes closing as if to shut out all the sights and sounds that didn’t matter at this point.

Only the feel of Sorey’s arm around him was what remained in his mind before everything melted into a haze and left him in peace.

 

**o-----)o(-----o**

 

“Uh, sorry to introduce some late changes into the program but we have a guest who’s aching to scream his lungs out with a song that I hope isn’t going to make you quit this place for good…”

Sorey had to smile even though it was quite obvious that Eizen was doing an improvisation at this point. What he couldn’t help squirming at, though, was the sight of a boldly half-naked Zaveid who sashayed to the center of the stage right next to the center pole, to wave at the crowd who cheered him on, which Sorey suspected was largely triggered by the sight of his huge muscles that seemed just about ready to pop out of his skin.

Thank goodness Mikleo was dozing off. He didn’t have to see anything so shocking as Zaveid strutting and stripping under such glaring lights.

Just imagining Zaveid making use of that shiny pole at the center was enough to give Sorey more than enough goosebumps down his liver.

Thankfully, the only thing Zaveid grabbed on-stage was the microphone that Eizen left for him to use.

“Hey, all you beautiful people… I have a song I wish to dedicate to some friends of mine… well, at least one of them is still awake, whoa, what a perfect way to say I’m appreciated, thanks.”

The crowd seemed to catch on quickly, laughing on cue.

“All right, so let me just tell yeah, this is a love song, all right. I mean, hey don’t strip clubs deserve some serious love too, c’mon, you guys agree with me right? So here it is.”

The beat was fast, a little old-fashioned but it had that mood and rhythm that one can easily dance to. Before Sorey knew what was going on, more than a few have already stood up, swaying their hips to the rhythm.

He recognized the music. It was from _Red_ , a group he admired—though Zaveid picked a song that was every bit on the romantic side, and if he wasn’t mistaken, it was “Die for You,” which, Sorey would have to admit, may be a good choice since it complements Zaveid’s style and pitch. Add to that Zaveid's natural charisma, Sorey was certain he could pull off the first few lines with his deep, husky, and exaggeratedly suave singing that just seemed perfect for the piece.

Zaveid gave him a wink as if begging him to pay attention. Sorey visibly winced but smiled, and his fingers involuntarily gave Mikleo a protective squeeze as if wanting to do more… just as he imagines them being intimate in that intimate darkness…

With deliberate slowness, he gave Mikleo a gentle peck on the cheek, a light kiss that he hoped would not disturb as he raised an eyebrow at Zaveid’s exaggerated swagger that was almost comical.

The beat caught up with Zaveid’s swaying hips as he lifted the microphone to his lips…

 

_I know you hate me_

_I never meant to make you feel this way_

_I feel so betrayed_

_I never thought I could feel condemned_

_I never thought I could feel all your sin…_

_Oh, I can feel your madness now!_

_Oh I can feel your fire now!_

_It’s what I burn for, it’s what I bleed for_

_I would die for you!_

_You know I’d die for you…_

_I feel exposed, I feel disgraced_

_I feel a whole new kind of hate_

_Someone please tell me what I’m supposed to do_

_‘Cause you hate me, but I love you!_

_S_ orey couldn’t help shaking his head. It is so like Zaveid to choose something _so_ subtle… really, _really_ subtle, in an ironic sense, of course. His husky voice resounded in the mellow shades of the spinning stage lights, giving the song a sense of angsty romance if not for the blare of background instruments that accompanied Zaveid’s exaggerated, carefree way of singing that almost bordered on raving. It was rock music after all… and even Zaveid can get away with something like that… with his natural charms that is…

Sorey flicked a look at Mikleo. His eyes were wide open and he was blinking at the image moving on the stage. Sorey wanted to laugh… Mikleo’s eyes were child-like just now, shimmering with something like a sick, nervous, what-on-earth-is-that-thing disbelief.

“G-gods… is _that_ who I think it is?”

Now, Sorey couldn’t help laughing as Mikleo straightened up, peering through the haze of lights with half-sleepy eyes that seemed wide-awake with shock despite the lingering exhaustion in them. Unable to suppress it, Sorey brushed his nose against Mikleo’s hair, smelling the scent of him that was redolent with lavender and pine and a spray of mint. It was enough to make his eyes languid as he struggled to keep his _masculine_ impulses from getting _too_ excited.

Thank god that, though Mikleo was awake, he made no move to push him away. So nuzzling against him felt justified.

Mikleo felt a strange heat coursing through him as Sorey’s warm breath began to tingle on his nape. “S-Sorey…”

But instead of answering him, a hand cupped his chin and turned his face to meet lips which eagerly sealed his mouth with a deep, wet, hungry sort of kiss that made Mikleo tremble visibly.

“Zaveid’s crazy…” Sorey mumbled between kisses, pulling at Mikleo’s bottom lip as one hand moved to Mikleo’s thigh and started moving up his waist, slipping under his shirt with an impatient pull, as if it had been wanting to do that for the longest time.

Mikleo knew that since most of the strobe lights were directed to the stage, the rest of the room was kept dim—enough to keep everyone’s faces beyond careful recognition. Sorey was definitely taking advantage of that, pulling him with frustrated yearning fingers that caressed whatever it could reach and touch.

Mikleo heard Sorey’s light moan and felt his mouth harshly deepening the kiss, biting his already swelling lips as his other hand slipped downwards, moving to that sensitive part of him between his thighs.

Mikleo felt his heart skipping too many beats at once as memories returned to him… images outlined like vague moving shadows against a shower of faint flashes and sparks of light.

Was it happening again? Does pleasure excuse any violence he might feel yet again if he let someone get _this_ close to him as before… if he allowed someone to do the same things to him willingly?

Mikleo felt confusion drowning him like fear in the middle of a stormy sea that was about to sweep him away. Something in his chest felt cold, numb, almost paralyzed, making it difficult to breathe… And beneath all of that was a warning, more frighteningly desperate this time, not to make the worst mistake of his life…

And though his lips languished in the kiss, his mind was begging, pleading with the voice inside him…

_N-no… d-don’t… Sorey… please… s-stop…_

Sorey froze. “M-Mikleo… Are you—if you don’t want me to…”

In the middle of the confusion rising in Mikleo’s eyes, the two of them could hear Zaveid’s raving, rock-balladeer voice:

 

_Oh I can feel your madness now!_

_Oh I can feel your fire now!_

_It’s why I’m breaking down_

_I’m coming back around_

_And now I’m telling you I would die for you!_

_I know you love me…_

_You know I wish I didn’t feel this way…_

_But I ain’t gonna change…_

Something in those last lines seemed to echo the exact same words that Sorey couldn’t tear out of his chest. _As always, your timing is pretty awful, Zaveid… but you’re right… that’s almost everything I feel right now…_

He flicked a look at Mikleo. Although Mikleo was swathing his face with a hand, he unmistakably heard him mutter an embarrassed ‘gosh’ between breaths, as those lines seem to sink in him too.

Sorey took the chance to lean closer and kiss Mikleo on the forehead. Flustered, lavender eyes shifted their gaze, meeting those green eyes that seemed to be waiting for him to do just that. Sorey smiles softly as his heart suddenly starts skipping beats again. “I know you need more time to think things through… I guess I’m being impatient and not understanding what you feel—”

“I’m sorry… I didn’t know what came over me… When you k-kissed me like that, I... I felt something weird inside me wanting to break free…”

“I can… err… do better…”

Mikleo’s face burned. “No, it’s not that—that’s NOT what I meant! I mean… it’s not like I hate the way you kiss me, it _really_ feels good—I mean—hey, why are you smiling, did I say you can smile like that? I’m serious, Sorey! Gosh, you’re really embarrassing me!”

Sorey’s eyes were languid, making Mikleo feel all warm and confused again. “I just feel honored you like my kiss, Mikleo…”

“Fine, you’re a good kisser but it’s not about that!” Mikleo felt something in his heart flutter as the words tried to break free, like water pushing through the cracks of a broken wall. “Sorey… I remember. Everything.”

Sorey blinked hard. Did he hear that right? Or maybe Mikleo was talking about something else…

But Mikleo’s quivering voice broke through all those doubts.

“Now I know why I keep having this impression that you’re too familiar with me… That day we met… I remember it was almost Christmas… and outside your mansion, by that fountain, I slapped you just like Alisha did… but a lot of other things happened… shameful things… just thinking about them makes me wish I could just disappear… or forget who I am…”

Mikleo couldn’t add more to that even if he wanted to. Sorey’s lips met his and kissed him wetly, in that restlessly lingering way… in that achingly soft and gentle way that made Mikleo’s toes curl in silent rapture, that made his heart hammer in his ears with that dreadfully ecstatic beat that told him… that whispered to him a truth he just kept on denying…

He is falling… with a force stronger than gravity, he is being pulled, being drawn, into the center of Sorey’s being…

And he couldn’t even fight it. Even when he denied it over and over, even when he kept reminding himself of his filth and his weakness, even when he kept rewinding those cruel memories he had of that night he and Sorey first met, the feelings were there… like a net cast over him, these emotions had him in knots and tangles, tightening and gripping him even more as he tried to struggle and escape…

Is there really no hope of yanking away these stupid, irrational sensations that are clouding his mind, making every nerve in his body burn with an insatiable hunger? Are moments like these even real? Is it really possible for him to be just happy and content, to accept Sorey as part of something good that he must deserve without secret conditions written in fine print?

Is it really possible for two people to find love this easily, to be luckier than the rest of the world? Or maybe, somehow, some god out there just realized that he and Sorey had done so much good that deserved to be rewarded now, in this moment?

As Sorey’s tongue started to languish in the kiss, started to taste his mouth with an embarrassing sort of eagerness that only weakened his resolve to pull away from those strong, gentle arms of his, a cough interrupted them from behind, forcing both of them to pause and open their eyes.

Zaveid was snickering loudly.

Mikleo flinched from Sorey’s hold though the motion only made that possessive right hand tighten around Mikleo’s waist. It was obvious that both of them were embarrassed, but Sorey was less awkward, blushing quietly while still keeping Mikleo close.

“Well, nothing like a good love song to cure misunderstandings, huh, my flustered, feathered lovebirds?”

Mikleo winced, looking away to hide his blush. “If that’s a love song, I’m a five-hundred-year-old Martian who speaks three thousand languages.”

“Well, if you’re in love with Sorey, you must be! Damn, he’s so cute I’m sure every single, intelligent life-form out there would fall for his charms!”

Sorey shook his head. “Cut it out, Zaveid. So, who’s performing now?”

Zaveid chuckled. “Who else but Eizen—the man himself? He rarely does anything like this… though with you two being here, I must say some spirit of love must have inspired him!”

“Spirit of love?” Mikleo was incredulous. “The only spirit I know that comes close to that is an _incubus_.”

“C’mon, stop denying it Mik-boy! Who won’t be jealous seeing you so wrapped up in your boyfriend like that in a strip club that’s not really an ideal set-up for romance? I mean, let’s face it, people can be intimate for many reasons other than love… But I can say you two have that thing that looks and feels in every way like true lov—”

“S-stop, don’t say it all right?” Mikleo stammered, looking away the umpteenth time to hide the deep scarlet on his face. “It’s not the kind of thing you say in public just like that!”

“All right then, why don’t we hear Sorey say it in a whisper, huh, how about it, Sorey?”

Sorey raised an eyebrow at Zaveid. “I already did. Not so sure why the word "love" makes him cringe the moment it slips out of my mouth.”

Zaveid laughed out loud. The way Sorey said it in a nonchalant, matter-or-fact voice was just too precious for words.

“S-Sorey!!!!”

Sorey smiled helplessly at Zaveid. “See?”

“Sheesh… I see your point! Your soulmate whatever’s in denial… Maybe you need to do something more drastic and convincing…”

“I know, right?” Sorey thought about it, his expression suddenly deep and serious. “But even if I can imagine a lot of stuff when I’m by myself, the moment I have the chance I just lose everything in my head… I mean… I get so excited I could hardly think of anything but se—”

“S-stop discussing me, all right!” Mikleo screeched, giving both of them scorching glares.

Zaved smirked. "Hey, Sorey buddy, were you just about to say _sex_?"

Mikleo was a furious scarlet in two seconds. “Sheesh… you two are the meanest clowns around! I wonder how anyone can laugh with all the embarrassing things you say!”

Sorey pulled him so suddenly Mikleo felt his chest crash right against Sorey’s rib. Then, flashing him a languid, knowing half-smile, Sorey began to draw circles on Mikleo’s nape with his thumb.

“I know everything feels embarrassing right now, but… wouldn’t it be nice if our friends at least knew? We wouldn’t have to tiptoe around everyone at least… and they know what to expect when we’re around…”

Mikleo elbowed his rib. “Fine, embarrass yourself if you want, but I’m not gonna be part of it, okay?”

“Hey, while you two are debating your love worries, check him out… Eizen’s not your typical balladeer, mind you, he’s really got the voice! It’s a shame he’s too damn serious and self-conscious to even use his good looks every mean chance he’s got! It’s not like the ladies out there aren’t dying to be taken advantage of by him, anyways.”

Sorey winced. “Zaveid, I don’t think _anyone_  prefers a casual fling or one-night-stand... I mean, wouldn’t it be nicer to have someone reliable, a guy who’d never let you down, who’d stay with you even if all hell breaks loose?”

Zaveid suppressed a smile as he arched an arm behind Mikleo, leaning ever so closely to whisper something. “See? Ideal boyfriend-type that’s what your future husband is… sort of nice and scary right?”

Mikleo exhaled. “He’s not my boyfriend, all right? So stop calling him that, please.”

Sorey heard it, his brow twitching. “Hey, I thought I was kinda even more than that, Mikleo! I mean… after _everything_ we did…”

“Sh-shut up!!!” Mikleo was a hot, flaming shade of red down to his toes, even as he lifted his chin away at Zaveid who was chuckling like a maniac.

“Look, for your peace of mind, I’ll pretend I heard none of that! Now you guys listen… It’s not every day you hear Eizen warble a tune for anyone. And his warbling’s so professional too… ”

Sorey followed Zaveid’s gaze toward the stage. True, the first time Eizen was introduced to him, he had simply assumed that he and Dezel were of the same type… Like Dezel who had a knack for profundity and staying close to what’s necessary, Eizen wasn’t a man of too many words. But right now, Eizen seemed more… human? Or maybe more transparent than he lets himself be. In fact, when Zaveid tried to call his attention, Sorey thought he saw Eizen smile even for the briefest of moments. Certainly his glance was still evasive, fraught with tension but it wasn’t like he seemed as guarded, or withdrawn, or suspicious as he normally looked. Still, just as practical-minded and business-like as Dezel, Eizen took the microphone wordlessly and seated himself on the stool at the center of the stage while resting his black guitar on his thigh. Then flicking an expressionless look at the audience, he started strumming the strings of his guitar lightly, filling the silence of the stage and its dimming lights with a mysterious, nostalgic presence.

As the lights around them began to glow softly, hazily, Sorey recognized the first few notes. The song must be _Open Up Your Eyes_ … and if his memory serves him right, it was by a band called _Daughtry_ …

As he thought and expected, the mood was poignant, lingering, restless… like a tragic angst that wouldn’t want itself to be forgotten no matter how many fond, pleasant memories you recall to keep it down.

 

_A single rose left to remember_

_As a single tear falls from her eye_

_Another cold day in December_

_A year from the day she said goodbye_

_Seems it’s only been a moment_

_Since the angels took him from her arms_

_And she was left there holding onto their tomorrow_

_But as they laid him in the ground_

_Her heart would sing without a sound…_

_For the first time you can open your eyes_

_And see the world without your sorrow_

_Where no one knows the pain you left behind_

_And all the peace you could never find_

_Is waiting there to hold and keep you_

_Welcome to the first day of your life_

_Just open up your eyes…_

_A single lifetime lays behind her_

_As she draws her final breath_

_Just beyond the door he'll find her_

_Taking her hand he softly says..._

_Just open up your eyes as I lay you down tonight_

_Safe on the other side_

_No more tears to cry…_

“Eeehh, Zaveid?”

Sorey thought it was the first time he saw an adult so moved by a song he was almost in tears.

“The damn stupid fool… instead of singing about Edna, why can’t he just walk up to her and say what he really feels for once?”

Mikleo flinched. “Edna? Are we talking about the same person here?”

Zaveid looked away. “Yeah… depends on how you know _the real_ Edna… I mean names don’t mean a thing… it’s the soul that makes us who we are.”

Sorey brushed Mikleo’s shoulder, though the way his fingers lingered, it seemed more like a caress. “Edna and Eizen have a… kind of past. I understand they’re like siblings… which means, technically they’re not. I guess saying they’re siblings is Eizen’s way of putting some distance, though. Lailah says some relationships become even more special when only the ones involved understand the truth between them… so whatever feelings they have for each other is not up for public display, not something that needs to be affirmed. But to be honest, I haven’t really heard Edna mention Eizen even once. I guess for her distance is the only way of coping with the truth…”

Mikleo frowned. “Knowing Edna a bit, that may be true. But isn’t that sad, though? I mean… I don’t know anything about the whole thing but… if two people really want to understand each other, shouldn’t they sit down and talk things over? The truth isn’t gonna speak for itself so sometimes you just have to say it loud and clear.”

Sorey smiled and nuzzled Mikleo by the nape in that childish way that was cloyingly sweet. Zaveid snickered and Mikleo elbowed Sorey’s rib before those lips could nibble the tip of his ears and make him feel like wanting more…

“Ouch, hey, I thought you said truths are better said in the open!”

Mikleo pushed Sorey away but it wasn’t even strong enough to put some distance between them. “Sheesh, I never said _saying_ is the same as _kissing_!”

“Goosebump alert you two!” Zaveid chuckles. “I feel like I’m intruding into your honeymoon just now!”

“Whose honeymoon?” Mikleo was livid. “That’s _not_ gonna happen for a long time if I can help it!”

“A year and a half is long enough for me! How about you?” Sorey leaned closer, almost whispering it in Mikleo’s ear. “I hope we can negotiate that though... uh, maybe six months isn't _that_  bad...”

“Huh, why don’t you take a vacation while I think about it? Ten years might be enough…”

Sorey scrunched up his face. “Yeah right, if my hand could have babies we’d have ten kids by that time!”

Zaveid was laughing so hard he had to hold his stomach. Then a heavy hand pressed itself on his shoulder and he bristles, straightening up to meet the most intense, metallic blue eyes that, even a man like him, would be strangely attracted to…

“Whose hand are we talking about here?”

Zaveid shrugs. “Nah, we’re just talking nonsense. So… that song is what? Dedicated to our one and only beloved Ed—”

“Shut up, all right! There’s nothing more I hate than nonsense! Besides, don’t tell me you plan to screw up tonight? I’m sure you felt it just as I did…”

Zaveid’s eyes became serious. “Well, your _animus_ has always been pretty sensitive to hellions. All my mighty _Siegfried_ can do is mark the target and fire away…”

“Hellions?!” Sorey stood up, taking Mikleo completely by surprise. “We have hellions around here? And you two can sense them too?”

“Hey, if you know what’s good for everyone you’d shush and keep it down, all right? These things don’t just up and start a fight. They can move from vessel to vessel, so you need to be alert! They’re not the kind of monsters you see in the movies or read in fantasy novels… the kind that just randomly gets wild and crazy and die just as easily if you shoot them with silver bullets.”

Zaveid groaned at that. “Sometimes, I can’t help wishing this is just some fantasy movie where the action starts and ends when the director says so!”

Eizen clenched a hand around the crimson stone dangling from a silver chain around his neck. “Five of them just switched places as we speak. They’re somewhat more erratic than others before… maybe they can sense something different… as if they’re looking for something…”

Sorey’s brow twitched. “What do you mean _before_? You’ve fought hellions before? Gramps never told me anything about—”

Eizen grunted. “He doesn’t have to tell you _more_ than you need to know. Much like your friend doesn’t know much either, I can tell…”

Mikleo shook his head. “I’m pretty lost. What is really going on?”

“Sorry, no time for 101 lectures! Zaveid, use your binding spell… If they keep jumping like that, the animus might draw a spirit boundary in between and end up freezing human souls rather than shadows! That’s something we’d all regret!”

Zaveid grunts. “Heck, I know what you mean and it doesn’t sound so good…”

Mikleo could overhear much, but there was little that made sense to him. Still, by the gravity in Eizen’s tone, he can tell no one’s in a joking mood. “H-hey, you guys, whatever it is, it doesn’t sound funny right now…”

Sorey grabbed Mikleo by the arm. “Mikleo, come on, this place isn’t safe for you anymore!”

“Sorey! What the hell does that mean?”

Sorey ignored the question, his eyes in a panic. “Zaveid, we need to get Mikleo out of here as fast as we can! I won’t let any of those things touch even a hair of him, all right?”

“Hey, cool it, Sorey… Eizen’s animus is one of a kind. If it senses even the slightest hostility, it reacts by setting up a _shield_ around the whole building, or like what he said, a _spirit boundary_ …”

“Let me explain that myself,” Eizen volunteered, keeping his eyes trained on the darkest corners of the room even as the stage began to take on a different mood, lambent shades of colored lights flashing provocatively as one by one the strippers sashayed onto the lighted platform in their red high heels and skimpy bikinis. But neither Sorey nor Mikleo was curious enough to see what kind of performance was unfolding right in front of them as Eizen’s pendant began to glow through the tiny slits between his fingers.

"Heck, I thought you ain't got time!" Zaveid complained.

Eizen frowned. "I'm willing to make compromises if I have to. Besides, if the kid's gonna be in it, he might as well have an idea what to expect. Likewise," Eizen flicked a look at Mikleo. "I know how it feels when you've got someone you're willing to risk everything to protect."

Sorey met his gaze. "Thanks... I think?"

Eizen gave him a far-away look. “Listen kid. The only way to survive fighting off these hellions is to have an animus. In a battle, an animus builds a shield that absorbs all the spiritual energies that have the enemy’s signature. I guess it's the closest thing you have to a radar... or a lie detector. It identifies traces of mana... energies given off by entities that exist more or less on a spiritual level. Hellions are made up of some sort of dark matter that feed on mana of a different sort from humans and seraphim. In this world, that's something you may call Malevolence."

Sorey frowned. "So an animus can sense Malevolence. How does it actually work?"

"Think of giant sponges," Zaveid volunteers. "An animus sorta works that way. They soak up the Malevolence around them, kinda like they feed on it literally."

Eizen gives it a thought as Zaveid grins back at him. "You can also also say it works like a power converter. Everything it absorbs gets transformed into fuel that you can use to power whatever weapon you have at your disposal. So you can say an animus depletes the energy that makes Malevolence an active resource."

"Like squeezing juice from a piece of lemon," Zaveid adds with a smirk. "The thing stays the same, minus the juice of course." 

Sorey scrunches up his face. "So the Malevolence is still there, you just immobilize it... sort of. But that also means Malevolence can regenerate... it doesn't really change into something else even if you extract all it's power. So in a way it _does_ behave like energy... there's no way of completely getting rid of it."

"Hey, if you _really_ know what kind of enemy we're dealing with here, you're kinda lucky we can do that much!"

Eizen nods briefly. "Zaveid's right. Unfortunately, an animus has its limits too."   

"Well, that's what barriers are for, right?" Zaveid quips, looking down as if in deep thought. "Most of the time that’s enough to keep everyone safe… provided, none of the human vessels possesses spiritual powers that may interfere with the stability of the shield. It's a good thing Eizen's animus has a pretty strong defensive barrier, nothing like I've seen anywhere. We're kinda lucky to have him on our side, ain't that right, buddy?" Zaveid gave Eizen a thumbs up.

"Talk about luck," Eizen knew what Sorey was about to ask. "Each animus has its own arsenal of offensive and defensive weapons. Mine sets up a barrier that defines the perimeters of the battlefield, much like a greenhouse that traps the heat in and keeps it from escaping."

"So you mean, you create a temporal arena where nothing gets out so any damage is restricted to who or whatever's within its perimeter, is that it?"

"You catch on pretty quick!" Zaveid gave Sorey a cocky grin.

"Technically, the barrier activates like a time cloak." Eizen pauses and scrunches up his face thoughtfully. "No, to be exact, it _is_ a time cloak—which resets the time within the shield to keep events and happenings within the barrier from having any external impact on anything or anyone beyond it. In other words, whatever damage is done inside the battlefield can be reset to eight minutes _before_ the barrier has been activated, minimizing any damage that had been inflicted during the battle or even erasing it completely. Beyond those eight minutes, whatever consequences you have become part of the normal time flow... there's no way of reversing those actions. When the reset activates after the battle, the animus simply absorbs all the energies that have been released with the effect of cancelling their effects on any external body and returning things to what they were before."

Sorey looks a little incredulous. "Don't you think that's just a little _too_ convenient to be a good thing?"

Eizen's face glows with something like a mixture of interest and admiration while Zaveid gives him a thumbs up. "Whaddaya think about my kid, huh? Smart enough for you?"

Eizen brushes it off with a casual grin as he narrows his eyes more seriously at Sorey. "Consider this then: resetting time doesn't mean undoing or unmaking what's been done. Time is just a theory like everything else, so resetting time doesn't mean obliterating the flow of cause-and-effect completely. It doesn't mean that anything that happens during the battle is simply an illusion. Death, destruction... any harm or injury inflicted is real and causes real sensations... agony, pain, suffering, torment. To that extent, you can say cause-and-effect is an overarching principle no technique can ever hope to get away with, whether the one who's using it is a god or just another hellion hunter…”

Zaveid bumps Eizen’s shoulder. “Good thing we’re excellent hellion hunters, huh, partner?”

“No offense but are you sure that’s all of it?” Sorey scrunched up his face. “Imagining it makes it seem far more dangerous than it sounds…”

Zaveid smirked. “Eizen, just tell him everything all right?”

“Good grief does the kid have to know these hellions can kill everyone here if we take more than eight minutes to shoot down their seals?”

“What the hell?!” Sorey was livid. “Mikleo, you have to go NOW!”

“No time for that!” Eizen shouts as the pendant in his clasp began to glow an iridescent, flaming, ruby red that seemed to scream a warning that something dangerous was lurking in their midst. Eizen lowered himself to the floor, pushing Sorey and Mikleo down with him. “Zaveid… you better shoot straight and clear tonight ‘cause we have twenty-four and counting right now!”

“The barrier! Is it up?”

“In three seconds…” Eizen closed his eyes and the fire in the crimson jewel trapped in his hand released itself, sending frightening loops and veins of energy throughout the entire room, crawling up ceilings, floors, snaking into every corner and shadow until every inch of the room is covered with glowing, sparkling, vibrating chains of energy that looked like giant roots filled with thick, viscous fluids. Upon closer look, Sorey could see that the liquid inside them were of a deep, vermillion color that almost looks like…

_Blood…?_

Besides, Sorey could feel an eerie, pulsating force within those tentacles, as if each one was a human vein throbbing with life, filled with an inhuman sort of power that felt frightening, almost sickening…

 _Animus must really be a fitting name for it_ … Sorey couldn't help thinking. _Animus_ means fury, hostility… a deep-seated anger that can destroy anything in its path…

Sorey saw Zaveid dart to the opposite corner with a gun aimed at the shadows, which must be visible from his position but not from where Sorey kept himself and Mikleo hidden. He was about to ask Eizen if Zaveid could handle everything by himself when he felt Mikleo move.

Eizen cursed under his breath as he pushed Mikleo down the same time Sorey grabbed him by the waist. “Stay down you two, ‘cause I can’t shoot seals with your heads getting in the way!”

“How can you tell where the seals are anyway?” Sorey asked, but in truth, his attention was on Mikleo. It bothered him that Mikleo’s calm, lavender eyes seemed glazed over, as if they were only half-conscious though they looked wide-awake.

Eizen’s animus glows a deep blue, like his eyes, and this time a crossbow materializes on his back, which he grabs and points at the purple shadows jutting out of the chests of some of the human bodies standing frozen in front of them about fifteen feet away. To Sorey, though, it looked as if those purple shadows were struggling to get out of those bodies, shuddering, shivering, shaking and wriggling their scaly, sickly glowing bodies. Their shrill screams were an agony to hear: loud, desperate, unearthly screams that accompanied their sleek, serpentine writhing, which to Sorey appeared like giant lizards being scorched alive.

Eizen’s crossbow hits one target dead center, right on the forehead between the eyes. The amorphous, lizard-looking shadow hellion that gave off a sickly yellow started shaking frantically, whipping its head violently as if it was trying desperately to throw the arrow off its leaking forehead. The air became redolent with cries and shrieks, accompanied by a pungent burning odor, like sulfur and gunpowder burning through hair and fabric. But Eizen seemed insensitive to those unearthly sounds and smells of pain. Just as Sorey was wondering how he was going to reload his weapon, Eizen draws a knife from his waist and slits his right palm with it.

“H-hey, what did you do that for?”

Eizen wraps his palm around the handle of the crossbow where a tiny needle seems to jut out. Sorey could imagine Eizen’s slit being penetrated by it, pierced by that needle which is right where his hand must rest to fire the weapon.

“Spiritual weapons are parasites. They draw their power from the user who has a contract with an animus. Attaching it to my body, letting its power course through my blood also allows me to control it more effectively… like it becomes part of my instincts, my mind… my soul… Besides… it becomes more deadly this way…”

Sorey saw what Eizen meant. The weapon which used to be capable of shooting one spiritual arrow at a time became a triple crossbow. With it, Eizen can shoot three consecutive arrows with three different targets, an enhanced capability that doesn’t only save time but also keeps the enemy distracted long enough to be an easy target.

As if to demonstrate this point, Eizen brings down three shadow hellions in two seconds. Sorey can’t see clearly in the dim lights but something tells him that every shot is carefully calculated rather than random.

“The seals are in their heads, is that it?”

Eizen shoots three more. He hasn’t missed or wasted a single shot so far. Still, Sorey might be mistaken but he’s beginning to sense the worry in those blue eyes.

“Between the eyes, just slightly above that. Their seals are like tiny shards of glass that sparkle with a certain color that almost matches their skin. Class one is amber, class two is purple, class three is velvet, almost like the color of my animus… the higher the number the more lethal and difficult. Like, if it’s a class two, you need at least two shots to break the seal. Classifying tells us how many shots we need to bring them down and how much time we can spare…”

“Hey, Eizen, you see that?” Zaveid’s voice rang in the dark. He had positioned himself in a corner about ten paces from where Eizen, Sorey, and Mikleo were positioned. “We have nine fucking class threes out there! You think you can handle two of them?”

“Huh, you need to ask? Why don’t you finish those three shadows coming your way? We only have four minutes and fifty seconds left, all right?”  

Sorey thought how horrible it looked… In their panic, the shadows seemed to be pulling, even dragging the unconscious vessels they have possessed, as if struggling to get out of the range of the weapons that were targeting them.

“Are—are they even trying to get away?”

Eizen shot another one. The crossbow has a strident, silvery ring to it, much like a taut harp string that was stretched to the fullest and released. The sound was both haunting and enigmatic, like a soulful ringing caught between the shrill notes of a flute imitating a bird song and the ghostly sound of wood and metal chimes vibrating eerily against an insistent breeze.

Sorey has read about banshees, and if he might compare that sound with it, it seemed like the crossbow was haunted with the spirits of the grieving dead… like souls cursed to an eternity of deep despair trapped in a weapon... 

Eizen’s voice broke through his thoughts.

“They are, but they shouldn’t. If we take too much time, the barrier won’t hold. If a shadow hellion manages to pull itself out of the body containing it at this point, the vessel dies.”

Sorey flinches. “What? I thought the animus is supposed to keep everyone safe while you’re catching those shadows?”

“Nothing is fool-proof. And that’s why we need to be careful not to let the animus get worked up and draw a spirit boundary while these shadows are erratic. Hellions must know _that_ so they’d do everything to escape a vessel _while_ it’s in a semi-conscious state, knowing that a stratagem like that may discourage a hellion hunter from using his animus.”

“So freezing those vessels is a necessary risk?”

“When the animus draws a spirit boundary around a human, that boundary acts like a barrier that keeps the shadow’s Malevolence from spilling onto other vessels or from being fired as weapons against us. Malevolence is an energy that behaves like a parasite just like my animus… The more a shadow uses it, the more its human vessel suffers for it. And that’s why we need a barrier to hold the shadow hellion down long enough for my _Valkyrie_ and Zaveid’s _Siegfried_ to shoot and break its seal. While catching those hellions is important, we can’t let them inflict further harm by using their vessels as fuel or as defense armor. And even if the animus can’t purify that power, it can store it in a place where it can’t wreak havoc on anyone else. Sending all that Malevolence back to where it came from might also work… if anyone here knows how to weave a Gate…”

Sorey’s heart throbs at that. _Gates?_ _Isn’t that the same thing that other guy used? So that means, where these shadow hellions came from is not this world but that place…_

Sorey couldn't be mistaken. All these creatures came from that Otherworld that swallowed him up and summoned that ‘other him’ who rescued Mikleo from that blood-sucking demon…

In Sorey’s mind, memories began to flicker... there was that purple landscape devastated by sandstorms, obscured by dark shrouding mists. From a cliff another wasteland stretches out riddled by ice storms, girdled by an endless frozen plain. In the middle of that white, angry emptiness of howling winds, there was a tower of black rock, like a column of black smoke rising out of the darkest pits, and on it a young man was standing. His white cape was fluttering like dove’s wings ruffled by the brute air, his arm raised high with a white, shining sword in its grasp. And above his outstretched arm was a bleeding sea of red and purple circled by moving skies…

No. Sorey could see that the sky was really a mass of dark silhouettes, beating high and low. They were dragon wings and… something else…

Sorey knew he hadn’t seen those creatures before, not when he was sucked into that other world… but for some reason, his mind registered the monstrous shape with frightening clarity… sleek, scaly beasts flying, swirling, reaching down with their long talons and claws. When he tried to concentrate, he noticed that their bodies resembled those of hounds except that their necks and torsos were far too elongated to be dog-like. In fact, the creatures seem more like half-dog, half-snake… inky-eyed serpents with dripping fangs, their twisting bodies covered with unearthly, black scales that seemed to glisten with venom.

Sorey blinked, trying to shake off those images, his hand wounding itself more tightly around Mikleo for some reason. He flicked a look at those wide-open, lavender eyes next to him, which still looked ahead with ghostly, unseeing dilated pupils. He could tell it was one of the effects of the barrier—because no one except him, Eizen and Zaveid were completely conscious.

Knowing that the animus affects all human bodies that way, however, did nothing to submerge his worries, as he felt Mikleo’s fingers getting colder by the minute.

“Did—were you able to catch that class three Zaveid asked you to?”

Sorey couldn’t help it if his voice slightly trembled. Mikleo’s fingers felt icy in his grip, making him panic even if there were a lot of other urgent things going on around them.

Eizen fired. “That’s the last one. Now we’ll wrap this up real quick. I’ll try to give Zaveid a little assistance. And by the way…” Eizen’s sapphire blue eyes shimmered with an ominous warning. “Whatever happens don’t let them get too close. The barrier can identify hellion hunters through their energy signatures, but if you're crazy enough to let a shadow get less than three meters too close, it'll freeze you just like those vessels…”

Sorey felt his heart quicken. With Mikleo right here, everything seems a threat, a danger too close for comfort…

From the corner of one eye he caught Eizen’s flicker of movement on the opposite side even as Zaveid’s weapon sparked and rang with deadly clarity, announcing three simultaneous kills.

Sorey suddenly wished he had a weapon he could protect Mikleo with. Hiding like this doesn’t feel safe at all…

The moment he thought of that, something snaked at his foot, looping itself around his ankle. Sorey bristled with alarm as he realized that Mikleo was struggling out of reach, loosening Sorey’s hold on his waist with a forceful grip that seemed far too strong to be coming from Mikleo himself…

“H-hey!” He tried to reach out and pull Mikleo back but the veins that, just a while ago, had been throbbing harmlessly beneath him now moved with a mind of its own, looping their wiry fingers around his knees, his thighs, crawling up his waist to keep him from standing up and grabbing Mikleo who was moving slowly out of reach, in that wide-eyed, half-conscious state of his that made it seem like he was sleep-walking…

“Mikleo! God… Eizen, Zaveid, something’s gotten into Mikleo!!!”

Eizen pointed his crossbow at Mikleo, but then something must have stopped him as his crossbow flew from his hands.

“Eizen, what’s going on? Mikleo needs help!!!”

As those words left Sorey’s lips he saw the veins loop out of control, whipping, spinning and spiraling like serpents clawing the air with their deadly talons. The entire room looked like a dark, enchanted forest being choked, suffocated by giants roots that moved like snakes writhing and lashing in fatal fury.

“What the hell is all this!” Zaveid shouted, firing his Siegfried at the spindly arms that simply absorbed the shock, spiraling out of control as if angered or provoked. “Eizen, is something tampering with your animus?”

The crossbow that spun out of Eizen’s grip and skidded to a corner about ten feet away seemed to have dematerialized completely, vanishing in the flick of an eye. Eizen grunts with a cold-blooded look.

“Zaveid, you have to shoot down the rest of them in forty-five seconds! I don’t think my animus can hold it much longer! Something has penetrated the shield and my animus is reacting to it!”

Zaveid groaned. “Crap, I’m more worried about the vessels waking up! I’m shielding them with a spell… but that ain’t gonna last forever!”

Sorey closed his eyes. He needed to concentrate. If he could summon that same power that he felt back when Mikleo was dragged by a hellion to some shielded hiding place, then maybe he could command these veins holding him down to let go…

He has to be free of these snaking vines… he has to reach Mikleo before anyone or anything can hurt him…

Then something in the air quivered… something filled with raging intent.

“ _Nexus Remus_!”

Sorey knew that voice. _Lailah?_

“Is this how you intend to protect precious Meebo?”

Sorey looked behind him. Edna was standing there, arms akimbo, twirling what looks like… a parasol? In one breathless flick of it, sharp, jagged, cone-shaped rocks that looked like stalagmites rose from the ground, cutting off the tentacles circling Sorey’s waist.

“Lady Lailah… I thought we had an understanding never to let Edna…”

As Sorey landed on his knees, he had a few seconds to contemplate what was going on. From what he had just heard, he could scarcely believe that Eizen could use that angry tone of voice on anyone—on Lailah of all people—in the middle of a life-threatening crisis.

“Eizen…”

Sorey thought he had never heard Edna use a soothing voice before. It was calm yet commanding, in a strangely affectionate way that could stop someone like Eizen in the middle of his anger.

Worried over Mikleo, Sorey could only flick a look behind him. Edna sounded confident but, for some reason, she couldn’t meet Eizen’s eyes. “If you’re mad, you can get mad with me, all right? Lailah had nothing to do with this. I wanted to be here… Seeing you here at the same time was just a bonus, not something deliberate…”

“Don’t tell me… you came here just to see how Zaveid and I battle these rabid shadow hellions?”

Sorey wondered at the bitter tone Eizen used. He seemed upset but… somehow miffed? Sorey couldn’t dwell on it though as he leapt and dodged to the side, avoiding a near-lethal brush with one of the thorny vines targeting him as he tried to get closer to where Mikeo was.

“Besides, if you’re worried, save it for that kid… he seems to be the one in need of your help and concern.”

At the mention of _that kid_ , Sorey looked ahead of him. Mikleo stood there transfixed, his entire body glowing with an iridescent, silver light outlined clearly in the dark by hints of aquamarine blue at the fringes.

Lailah's voice broke through the haze. “Eizen, you have to armatize with Edna… It’s the only way!”

“What? Since when did rules like that ever work in a world like this? Shepherd oaths are a thing of the past and I'm hardly the type who'd qualify for that! Besides, since when did I _ever_ need Edna's help for anything? The animus only needs Siegfried…”

Lailah shook her head. “The animus gives Siegfried greater range and firing power because your and Zaveid’s strengths and abilities are complementary… But when it comes to the harmonies between souls, your compatibility with Edna…”

“Look Eizen, do you really want Lailah to say embarrassing stuff in front of everyone here? Lailah already opened the link… _Nexus Remus_ is an armitization password that opens channels within the soul that allows warriors to share or borrow each other’s strengths to form an armatus… a spiritual weapon. Unfortunately, it only works with compatible hellion hunters… and only Lailah can activate it for now… It’s not like I’m dying to armatize with you either… But in _this_ world, seraphim can only fuse their spiritual energies with compatible souls, human or otherwise… It’s not like you have to overthink it… _brother_ …”

“Fine!” Eizen was livid though. “So what do we have to do?”

Sorey couldn’t follow the discussion in much greater detail as he would have liked or needed from that point. Mikleo’s body is flickering with a silver-white light right now, and the radiance was almost scorching Sorey’s eyes with its intense, shimmering brightness.

However, the whipping, serpentine veins throbbing thickly everywhere around them seem to converge around Mikleo’s light. Like an eagle making a nest, Eizen’s animus began intertwining its thorny, root-like tentacles around him as if to build a solid, impenetrable wall of defense…

Sorey managed to break through some of the lashing, unraveling, intertwining limbs to get close to Mikleo. But as soon as he reached out an arm to him, the veins slashed at him whip-like, as if venting all its fury and rage on any intruder who might even attempt to as much as touch the human boy in their midst…

“No way I’m gonna let you keep him in there!” Sorey shouted, as he grabbed at one of the giant roots and used it as a shield against the slashing attacks on him. He flicked a look behind him to see how the others were doing, but all he could see were vague sparks of light around a ring of fire that looked very familiar…

From the corner of his eye, he could see Lailah hovering over a crumpled form on the floor. Was that Edna? What just happened? Not that he had the luxury to hazard any guesses… Right now, his heart is pounding in his ears as his gaze shifts back to Mikleo, whose body is slowly being swallowed up by the throbbing creepers that are still frantically slashing away at anyone who might try to get close, wrapping their thick, thorny, spindly tails and tentacles around Mikleo possessively, almost jealously, as if he's one of their kind, a fragile offspring that needed protection.

Before Sorey could scream Mikleo’s name again, something white shimmered in front of him…

The figure was tall, muscular, with bright, golden strands of hair splayed behind him, falling down the length of his cloak that gently swayed behind him as if played upon by a breeze. His white tunic had a collar reaching up to his chin and the rest of him was clad in the same pristine white with trimmings of black and gold on the sleeves and the hem of his tunic and breeches.

By the height of his shoulders, the color of his hair, the posture and the aura the figure exudes even from some distance from Sorey, he can tell that the man in front of him is unmistakably Eizen…

 _So this is what Lailah said earlier about armatization…_ To Sorey, the vision was both amazing and almost frightening. Eizen looked like a furious angel of death, glowing with an inhuman, ethereal light of deep amber. When he looked back over his shoulder at Sorey, Sorey noticed how his eyes of metallic blue gave his taut face an aura of surreal serenity… a cold, calculating peace laced with that feminine aura that could only be Edna’s own…

 _So Eizen and Edna are supposed to be compatible souls…_ Sorey didn’t find that surprising. Somehow, he had always felt that they shared the same spiritual energies, the same connection that makes their aura almost similar… different but in harmony, like two musical notes complementing each other…

“Eizen, draw your lance! I will give you its name…”

Lailah closed her eyes and seemed to whisper something in the wind. Sorey couldn’t help but feel a cool air brush against his cheeks and when he opened his eyes, he was able to discern the sound of Zaveid’s voice speaking to Lailah.

“So, it’s just like before isn’t it? Weapons, once bestowed on their rightful owners, must be given a name that should be for the new master to say and command…”

Lailah nodded to Zaveid. “Exactly. Now Eizen, say the name of your armatus!”

“Llwch Llawynnawc!”

The _armatus_ —as both Lailah and Edna referred to it—was just like in the Arthurian myths... just like in that dark, despondent age of knights and heralds of chivalry. It looked every bit like the medieval implement used for jousting, except that the one held by Eizen had an emblem at the very tip that looked no different from the one Sorey had seen on the glove of that young man he had met from the other world…

Besides, Eizen’s lance seems to be of a different make. Shaped like a long, protruding, tapering spear that has a blunt end, it has a metallic sheen that appears to be more pristine… as if it was honed only with the purest profusion of elements, the most noble and sublime of enchantments…

And that esoteric name with which the armatus was summoned… wasn’t that the ancient name of Lancelot du Lac, the most famous knight of the Fellowship of the Round Table? He was known by various names, as Lanzelet or Sir Lancelot of the Lake, the greatest of King Arthur’s knights… a half-human, half-fairy prince who fathered no less than the purest of them all, Sir Galahad, Knight of the Grail… Lancelot was a character he had read from _The Vulgate Cycle_ , a series of stories about the legendary Holy Grail, which have been translated and retold in various story versions. From the accounts he had read in Gramps’s archives, Sorey knew him to be a worthy knight who, sadly, not only brought about the fall of Camelot but also failed to receive the blessings of the Grail because of his impure worldliness: his illicit love for King Arthur’s Queen and his betrayal of the king’s trust… the king he admired and vowed to serve for life…

But legends are just legends after all… old stories half-imagined, half-inspired by truth. They may speak of tantalizing heroism, of glories past and lost or forgotten… but they’re nothing close to what’s real…

Then again... could it be that the legends borne of that still undeciphered past really came from somewhere else... from the hosts of light and dark that have slipped into this world from that other part of the universe? But that depends on how long Gramps, Lailah, Zaveid, Dezel, and the rest of them had been in this world...

Sorey felt his heart recoil at the possibilities. King Arthur's mystique had been around for almost a thousand years...  

"Eizen!"

It was Zaveid's voice sounding strained in the midst of the confusion. But that was nothing against the vision of light that was unfolding right before their very eyes. As the lance fully materialized in front of Eizen, Sorey heard a distant singing... a clear, choir-like, humming sound pulling all their senses toward it…

_Oh most fair Knight, master next to none_

_Fair from the Region of the Summer Stars_

_Bearer of constant hope, whose eyes_

_Of azure pure, like molten ice and raging sea_

_You who bear the Crown of the Isle of Glass_

_By your iron might, darkness from light was cleaved_

_As brother from sister, as friend from foe…_

_As Merlyn from Morrighan…_

_As Pwyll from Arawn…_

_As the Lord of Summer from the Lord of Winter_

_Brightness of honor, truth of love unfolds…_

 

Sorey vaguely wondered if only he could hear the song, as the lance whistled and hummed with every move and swing… Then Eizen finally brings it down on the heavy mass of serpentine arms and tails swishing and lashing and whipping madly in the air…

The contact explodes in a wild fury of flashing brilliance, blinding Sorey as he tried to get closer to the center of the nest of intertwined tentacles in the hope of reaching Mikleo.

The spindles of thorns and vines fall like broken limbs, littering the floor with what looked like dead twigs and branches. Sorey saw Mikleo still standing where the nest used to be, immobile, vacant eyes staring without recognition.

Sorey ran to him eagerly…

But Eizen stood in the way.

“What the—hey!” Sorey flashed him a look of incredulous annoyance which he didn’t mean but somehow, couldn’t control.

Eizen flashed him a look of warning. “My animus lost control because of him… I don’t know what happened exactly, but I could sense something in him that’s far too dangerous to risk—”

“To hell with that! Mikleo’s the one in danger!”

“Eizen…”

Edna was on her feet, her body glowing with an unearthly kind of transparency that made Sorey wonder if he was actually seeing right through it. Although with the anger and furious panic that was making his head throb painfully, he couldn’t be sure if he was even thinking properly or if he were hallucinating… All his thoughts were on Mikleo at the moment and if he needed to punch Eizen to make him clear the path to him…

“Edna, this is one of the reasons I don’t want you anywhere near a battle! If I knew beforehand that armatizing puts so much burden on another hellion hunter, I wouldn’t—”  

“Another hellion hunter? Or you mean your _mutual_ partner? If I’m the one at risk, how come you’re the one complaining, _brother_?”

With that, Edna raised her parasol and pointed it at him, even when it wavered and trembled with the weakness she could feel in her tired and seemingly battered body. Eizen didn’t have to hear it from her—the fact that fusions like these put all the strain and injuries on the _soul-link_ , the one who lends his or her power during armitization.

“ _Anathemata_!”

The moment that word leaves Edna’s lips, the armatus dissolves and Eizen staggers breathlessly onto the floor, knees bent, his chest heaving with the strain he didn’t feel while he was wielding the lance against his own animus.

Edna straightens up. “See? It wasn’t so bad. The moment I say the word, you start feeling as bad as I do. Pain and misery shared ends up being divided in half. So you can stop fussing over me from this moment on. As for Meebo…”

She walks toward Sorey and stares at him hard. Eizen straightens up, wondering what was going on in Edna’s mind but before he could even ask, Edna lifts her arm and brings it down on Sorey.

The parasol hits him hard on the shoulder, making him wince.

“Spirit boundaries do not apply to compatible souls. Technically, that means no spiritual barriers can keep soul mates away from each other… so if I were you, Sorey, I’d hold onto my precious Meebo while I still can. If you do more than that, though, I can’t guarantee your safety… but then you’re one tough guy who can handle almost anything, right? Like Eizen’s animus catching up with you and doing worse things than you’ve seen today…”

“As for you,” Edna gives Eizen a withering glare that makes the bigger, intimidating hellion hunter almost look like a stubborn kid being reprimanded by his shorter, older sister. “I wanna see the rest of you... dear brother…”

Eizen blushes angrily, though his clenched fist doesn’t move anywhere near Edna. She flutters her eyelashes at him, but her face looks calm, unruffled, almost bored.

“Of course, I mean, where you live, where you eat and sleep… what porn stuff and other garbage you might prefer to watch or read in your spare time… I might even cook meals for you if you try to be nice just like you were in the _old_ days…”

Eizen crosses his arms over his chest and looks away. “Hell, you better start talking like the dear sister you were back then if you want that! Besides, I’m not old… heck I’m never old… but you’re hopelessly younger so I lose. That’s as nice as I can get. And even if eating isn't something I'll _ever_  get used to... you can try some of my cooking yourself, if you wanna learn how to do it professionally.”

Although Sorey could overhear most of the conversation around him, his mind couldn’t focus on anything else at the moment. Without having to think about it, he wrapped his arms around Mikleo, one hand staying around his waist, the other on his back, pressing him as hard as he could to his chest.

Fortunately, no lightning flashes got in the way this time, no bizarre tentacles or shadow monsters tried to pry Mikleo away from Sorey’s hold. He wondered how many more of these threats and dangers he could take… how many times he would have to see Mikleo in harm’s way, within reach of either demons or hellions which seem to be always in relentless pursuit… almost as if… as if there's something about his presence that these creatures of dark find irresistible, drawing them toward him… the way moths are drawn to the flame...

In the same way shadows gravitate toward any source of light…

Sorey caresses Mikleo’s cheek, letting his fingers linger on those pale, smooth silver strands framing that innocent face that seems to stare emptily into a darkness it can only see…

Sorey suddenly felt his panic returning. What if Mikleo doesn’t wake up from this dreamless, hypnotic spell? What if these hellions start appearing randomly and Mikleo gets caught in another confrontation like this?

He wanted to know more than ever… Lailah must know as much as Gramps, at least as much as everyone. If she could use powerful spells and summon spiritual weapons from another world, even help such formidable hellion hunters as Eizen and Zaveid, then that means she knows more than she lets on… why this world seems to be caught in a pointless battle of wills and strengths, a battle the rest of the world cannot afford to know anything about, save for a handful like them…

Sorey scrunches up his face. He would have to get Lailah’s attention once and for all and make her explain…

But before he could even open his mouth to say anything, he thought he saw Edna waving at him, her parasol spinning playfully to catch his attention. He didn’t see her lips move but somehow he heard her voice inside his head.

_“See you later… and take care of precious Meebo if you don’t want to die an embarrassing death… being impaled by a little girl’s parasol, that is…And worry not your head about the damage here... Eizen's animus works differently from the armatus and the former powers of the seraphim... The laws of this world sure are confusing and keep throwing us off... but Lailah and I figured a way to fix things from here... I guess we women are better at using time cloaks, you'll see...”_

As the spirit boundary around him shimmered and finally disappeared, the room returned to what it once was. And that meant glaring flashes of red on the stage, spinning strobe lights, half-naked strippers on the stage…

And Mikleo’s wide-eyed stare. “S-Sorey!!! You’re actually watching _that_ right in front of me?”

Sorey blinked, confusion keeping his eyes unfocused as colored lights swirled and spun all around him.

It seems time finally moved… But how come they're standing right here just as before, back to that point before Eizen started explaining things about hellions?

But does he really have time to worry about _that_ , now that Mikleo is safe and looking perfectly all right? Of course, there's no one to say how long things can stay safe, no one to give any guarantees that Mikleo won't _ever_ be in any danger from here on, but...

Sorey draws a deep breath and swallows all the fear with a smile. “Uh, Mikleo, you almost sound pretty jealous…”

“N-no, definitely NOT, sheesh! As the student body president, it’s my prerogative to keep students from abusing their right of access to such things as—”

Sorey pulled him down and back onto the couch, sealing his mouth with a kiss. Mikleo tried to break free but it was useless. Not only did he feel strangely exhausted and battered, but Sorey’s hold around his wrist and waist was firm, relentless like he was almost afraid to let go…

When Sorey drew back to catch his breath Mikleo gave him a scorching glare. “What’s wrong with you? You don’t have to be too… harsh… just to get my attention off the topic…”

Sorey looked down at Mikleo’s wrist. It was red, almost swelling with bruise-like, finger marks on it. He paled, looking guilty all of a sudden. Mikleo almost regretted mentioning it.

“Gods, sorry Mikleo, I wasn’t thinking… it’s just that… a few minutes ago… well, it really seemed like hours but… something happened and…”

He stopped. Should Mikleo even know about it? It’s not like having all your memories come toppling down on you in just one night isn’t bad enough. Now Mikleo has to hear about shadow hellions lingering in dark, unseen corners, about weapons such as the animus and the armatus, which use strange powers to contain dark energies called the Malevolence…

He has to hear about hellion hunters like Eizen, Zaveid, Lailah, and Edna… ordinary people on the outside who possess god-like powers… warriors who protect this world from those legions of evil, those demonic savages who feed on human souls and kill for pleasure...

More important than that, should he give Mikleo more reason to worry, to believe that he has been in constant danger ever since they met?

Sorey’s chest heaved. No, he wasn’t prepared for that conclusion, was he? How come… how come he hadn’t noticed that before? Or did he simply sidestep that obvious fact because it wasn’t what he wanted to believe? Because he could always imagine everything to be just a coincidence, a convoluted twist of fate?

But it’s no less true isn’t it? Ever since that day they met, it’s been nothing but hell for Mikleo… even if right now, he would rather consider it as bad luck...

But is luck really all it is? Are such agonizing symmetries even allowed in a world gripped by chaos? By unknown yet deadly shadows that dripped of evil intent?

Is logic ever so benign?

“Sorey? Hey, what’s got into you?”

Before he could answer, his cellphone started to vibrate. Sorey felt it, heard it, but his hand moved of its own accord and simply turned it off.

Then with both arms that didn’t want to let go ever again, he hugged Mikleo. He vaguely hoped he wasn’t going to humiliate himself… by saying things that could scare Mikleo away or make him think Sorey was losing his mind…

Maybe he is. Because just like that he quietly wished this night to be the last. As if the world is finally ending and he couldn’t tell exactly whether he wanted to save it or escape from it, even if he could…

Right now, all he wanted is to be with Mikleo… even if he’s the last person in the world Mikleo should want or need at the moment, the last person who can keep him safe…

Because if Sorey was the gravity that pulled all danger toward the one person he cared about, he would rather be sucked into an absolute nothingness… a pit of hells where his mind could be wiped clean of the agony of not being with Mikleo ever again…

But then that would be contradicting himself. And for some strange reason Sorey realized contradictions are what he truly is… what his soul probably is, from the very beginning…

A beginning that is slowly catching up with him toward an end he might never want to see.

 

**o-----)o(-----o**

 

The room was quiet. The night lay still in shadows, in that strange kind of stillness that reminded Mikleo of the moon or its quiet reflection on unmoving water, or the sound of snow falling outside a window beneath a scatter of mist and moonbeams.

He moved—at least his hand did, though he wasn’t sure what he was reaching for, or what he had expected to be there just a hand span away from his fingers. All he knew was that there must be something there, _someone_ there besides this aching stillness that seemed more palpable than the suffocating gray of darkness filled with wide, empty spaces.

But as Mikleo let his fingers slip into the sheets next to him he realized they were almost cold, almost smooth… and frighteningly empty.

Like those dreams where he would rise from the darkest of waters, naked and shivering in the cold, with nothing to hide his shame but a pair of the darkest wings… ashen wings with long, silky feathers that glistened yet quivered with an unspeakable horror.

It was the kind of horror that told him he had an unborn demon within… an angel rising from the depths of a world that knew only anger and pain.

And in that vision of unspoken fears he seems to recognize... to be aware without the slightest doubt that the winged spirit rising from the shadows, that faceless phantom summoned from the rippling depths of some nameless, shattered underworld was none other than him.

Even though his head was hidden in a shroud of black, seamless cloth, he recognized his own soul… recognized the sorrowful eyes that cannot be gazed upon without forsaking the onlooker beyond redemption or healing.

As if the unshakeable feeling of being damned wasn’t enough the god-awful nightmare, which comes only every now and then, was never as clear and lucid as it was this night of all nights.

Mikleo sat up to get his bearings, to convince himself that sleep was always better after waking up… because it was the only way to end that other existence that hides and breathes in another place only his mind can reach.

He looks at the clock on the side table. It was not even half-past 2 a.m. But he had barely gotten up when the door creaks open. Mikleo’s heart burns with a sudden expectation, though the memory is bound to confuse him in some future where his body feels empty and confused at every waking, as if he's _always_ missing something more than what is given...

But that future is not here, not now... but definitely not far away.

“Mikleo? You’re—are you still awake?”

“No. You’re just talking to a shadow.”

Sorey crosses the room to the bed in quick, long strides almost as if he was chasing an illusion that was about to disappear…  

“S-Sorey?”

Fingers linger on his chin, but just as Mikleo thought he would lean in for a kiss, Sorey quietly let it go, looking away as if in frustration.

“Don’t joke like that, ever, all right?”

“If that’s a joke how come you look upset?”

“N-no I’m not…”

“And you’re not sleeping either, that much I can tell.”

“I… don’t feel like sleeping at all… I mean… I just had a long talk with Lailah… and Gramps…”

“He’s here?”

“No. I had to call him… about something I just needed to ask.”

“Something tells me it wasn’t just one simple question, was it?”

Sorey smiled guiltily. “The conversation actually turned into a little debate… my bad, of course. I’m a stubborn bully.”

“I hardly realized that. Or maybe it wasn’t _that_ obvious to me.”

Sorey smiled. “C’mon, you need more sleep. I’ll tuck you in.”

Mikleo frowned. “You seem out of character lately.”

“Want a kiss?” Sorey teased, but Mikleo felt or sensed his voice quiver, like he has just said something he wasn’t supposed to.

“You’re _not_ hiding anything are you?”  

Sorey took a second to answer. “Let’s just say I’d rather keep things where they should be… so I don’t end up hurting anyone else…”

Mikleo pulled him down with him onto the bed. Although Sorey looked like he was about ready to squirm, Mikleo made sure he was comfortably snuggled next to him, his head on his shoulders.

It must be _a bit_ uncomfortable though—mostly for Sorey. He was, after all, bigger and taller so he needed to adjust his posture to Mikleo’s height and frame. But just the same, Mikleo seemed content to hold him there for a few seconds longer.

“Sorey… I can’t say I know you as much as I would have wanted to—not yet, at least—but if there’s anything you want me to say or do right now, just tell me, all right?”

He felt Sorey’s smile on his cheek. “That sounds very suggestive. I wonder if you mean it, though.”

“Of course I mean it. Though it depends on what you’re thinking.”

Sorey breathes a little more playfully in his ear. “And what do you think am I thinking?”

“You think I look stupid in your bed clothes. Besides, how come you’re all covered up top to bottom while I’m only wearing a pajama top?”

Sorey’s smile turned into a chuckle. “You were so sleepy when we came from the club that the minute you got the top all buttoned up you went straight to bed. Of course not that I’m complaining. My clothes may seem too big on you, but you look cute just like that… all covered up halfway so I can see your legs… Ouch, hey! I was complimenting you there!”

“Sheesh, that was a bit more suggestive than mine ever was!”

Sorey laughed a little and drew himself back, not far enough to keep him from seeing how Mikleo’s eyes shimmered with a mixture of worry and anticipation. Sorey could only hope that Mikleo anticipated something romantic… maybe a kiss and a little more than that?

Vaguely, he wondered whether it would be too wrong to assume that much and act on that assumption. Because if there’s anything he felt like doing right now, it’s definitely something no words can replace.

Something only lips and fingers and that needful, aching part of him knew how…

But starting tonight… after Lailah told him everything… Sorey felt like a part of him died. He wasn’t supposed to tempt fate like this… he wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near Mikleo…

He wasn’t supposed to be in the same room where he could do things that would make him lose the one thing he wanted more than anything he ever had.

If he could kiss Mikleo but not go beyond that… if he could touch him and not want more than that… it would have been all right. But Sorey knew himself more than anyone. He would never be satisfied with touches and kisses.

With Mikleo he would always be tempted to go beyond romance, to step beyond its physical boundaries…

Because that is how love is. Just because he wanted to be more intimate didn’t mean his love wasn’t pure, wasn’t noble enough, or clean, or dignified.

Love and all its expressions can never be filthy if the intentions are pure, if the mind wills it to be pure and noble. Because love is a mental thing... because it's something one chooses, not something one’s body might crave for without desire, like food or oxygen. People can live without love. But some people choose not to… people like him who will and can never ever unlove.

Only the mind corrupts everything… he believed that with all his heart and soul. It was then that Gramps and Lailah told him a _piece_ of truth they’ve been keeping for the longest time. There was more to it—he could tell there _must_ be so much more. But that tiny piece was enough to shake the foundations of everything he believed in.

They told him something inside Mikleo is waking up… something more dangerous than hellions.

Even now, Lailah’s voice drifts into his mind, embedding itself into his memories as if it would be far too dangerous to forget:

_With Death came Anguish, Sorrow… Loss, Pain. And with all these things, all these mortal chains that everyone feared and loathed, Malevolence was born. While Malevolence and Evil are different, they’ve become cause and effect, one following the other like an unbreakable chain of means and ends. Whether one does evil or suffers from it, he or she brings forth Malevolence, which begets Malevolence. Because when Time was created, action and consequence became an inescapable law, intertwining people’s fates, binding them to the tides of calamity that are wrought by the limitations of reality, the bias and prejudice of fortune._

_And the one thing that keeps Malevolence and Evil separate, that allows Malevolence to be purified… is the Pure Light within it, the one thing that stands between the boundaries of Evil and Good, the only power that does not seek to overcome, but which allows all powers to co-exist, to transform each other, and to create all things by which we may learn and unlearn all that we are…_

_Now that power is being awakened… it is waiting to be reborn… It is an ancient power stronger than all the forces of good and evil that created the universe._

_A power that triggered Chaos, Death, and all the enemies of Eternity._

_It is the Heart of the Malevolence… the heart that has the power to purify all things…_

_That Heart is what lies within Mikleo as its Vessel…_

_And you, Sorey, are the trigger… the key that unlocks the Heart’s desire from within…_

_When_ _all the desires that bind it to the Dark Lord_ _is summoned, the final battle begins…_

When Sorey asked Gramps what the final battle really meant, he wasn’t quite ready to listen to more obscurities… But somehow, a part of him understood or wanted to understand…

_For defeating the dark power of Malevolence meant that all things must be returned to the Cauldron of Rebirth where everything made will be unmade… Just as everything that was born must first die before it can become one with Paradox… with both being and nothingness… So in the clash between the True Lord and Origin of the Malevolence and the Heart that restrains it, there is only one end: we must all wither away, perish and become one with Death… losing this temporary existence so the balance can be returned to this universe that has lost it…_

_Only then can all things be truly purified… before the Darkness consumes all possibilities of creation…_

 

After he had heard everything that Gramps and Lailah cared to reveal, he knew the point they were driving at. It wasn’t really all that hard _not_ to sense the truth behind all those words, all those theories that were meant to say one thing.

Mikleo, being the bearer of that _Pure Light_ within him, cannot be tainted with human desire… because that desire will call out the power of the _True Lord and Origin of the Malevolence_ from which it was separated. And as Gramps had revealed, it is in the nature of this other power, this darker existence to rule and to subdue all that contradicts it, sinking any world within its grasp into a state of unbalanced existence. And the Heart within Mikleo… the spirit nestling in him… Nimue, the female attribute of darkness that rules it with a Pure Light… this power also belongs to this Lord, both of them being broken halves of each other, two sides of the same coin.

God and goddess of the same union, the same timeless existence…

Sorey flinched the first time he had heard of it. Even now, just thinking about it hurts… like a heavy rock was pressing itself onto his chest, a rock that bears the weight of all the sins and calamities of the world…

And the reason was all too clear… because Mikleo was to be Nimue’s rebirth... because Mikleo from the very beginning already belonged to another and would be claimed by another being, by another power, by whatever name it is called… to become the _Light_ of the _Lord of Darkness_ in a union destined to exist for all eternity.

He has to suppress the urge to be jealous and angry because a part of him wanted to believe Mikleo was free… a part of him wished they were all free. But who was he trying to fool?

A smaller voice inside him knew the truth too well… He wanted Mikleo’s freedom because freedom means free will and choice… the choice to live and to love the way Sorey wants him to… beside him, with him, wherever fate takes them both.

But Gramps and Lailah insisted that harmony is the rule of fate and free will, the abiding order that guides all creation. Without it there is no point in coexistence. And that is why to live means to protect this harmony no matter what it takes, even if sacrifices fall upon greater souls, pure beings who must answer to the call…

Sorey hated it. So Mikleo was destined to light the darkness of the darkest hells… a greater soul who only lives to be sacrificed to a higher end he _didn’t_ even choose.

Right now, all his frustration boils to one single thing he wanted to scream to the universe… like a rushing avalanche broken by the heat and let loose unto a rolling plain of snow and ice, his fury has but a single cry of defiance left…

 _Fuck you all…_ and by _you_ he meant no one in particular. Just this life, this world, this sordid mess called reality. Fuck all of that.

Mikleo must have sensed his quiet rage from the harsh pull of his breath. Although Sorey did his best to suppress all those useless emotions, he knew it wasn’t working… that nothing will ever make him all right ever again.

“Sorey… you’re obviously upset. I don’t know why and I won’t _ever_ know why unless you tell me what’s _really_ bugging you.”

Sorey didn’t want to meet his eyes that much Mikleo can tell. And when his lips moved, he mumbled something that hardly made any sense.

“Mikleo… I’m the trigger.”

“Sorey?”

“I’m… so sorry… I wish I could tell you…”

Mikleo knew his own limits. For certain he was poor at empathy and his conversation skills were probably much worse than he’s ready to admit. But even so, Sorey must be worse at lying than Mikleo can be bad at anything. Right now, he didn’t think that was all Sorey _could_ say or _wanted_ to say. It seemed there was more. But for some twisted reason, he was keeping it bottled inside of him. And Mikleo didn’t know how to force it out… or make him comfortable enough to talk about it.

The only way he knew how is what he thought Sorey understands the most…

“M-Mikleo… what-what are you-"

He started unbuttoning the neck of his top, letting the fabric fall down one shoulder as he put one arm around Sorey’s neck.

“I’m not sure why I’m doing this but… I feel like you need a good kiss… and a little bit more…”

With that, Mikleo pressed his lips on Sorey’s mouth, arching his body toward him as he began to wrap his thighs around Sorey’s waist.

Sorey never felt his heart beat so fast… if he had thought that their first kiss was amazing, now he realized there was nothing to compare…

As all that rage and fury within him dissipated like desert rain, like snow on its first encounter with the heat of spring and sunshine, his hands immediately wrapped themselves around Mikleo’s waist. Then, with an instinct beyond all the restraints of self-control, Sorey’s fingers started pulling the rest of Mikleo’s top off his shoulders until it fell around his hips, still buttoned halfway.

Sorey pressed Mikleo toward his need, his mouth hungrily seeking the smooth creamy flesh on his shoulders, down his chest where the buds stood out, pink and small and firm, against all that pale skin.

He relished each one, dipping his mouth where the pink buds rose with every quiver of breath Mikleo took, with every little pull of his fingers as they wrapped themselves around Sorey’s nape, fingering strands of his hair in a heated caress.

Mikleo groaned as he felt Sorey’s throbbing manhood, still clothed, pushing itself against his thigh, pressing itself impatiently, even as Mikleo instinctively gave in, opening himself completely, thrusting himself against that heated peak…

Sorey understood that they both wanted more… that their pressing urges and swelling needs won’t be satisfied with just these simple touches and kisses... Right now, with Mikleo sitting on his lap, his thighs wrapped around his waist, it was tempting to push ahead and do it, to thrust himself inside of him, to stare into his face and those beautiful lavender eyes as he slides his shaft into his sheath over and over…

Sorey groaned as that aching desire throbbed beneath Mikleo and he—well, Mikleo began wrapping his fingers around the swelling heat still clothed and hidden.

Sorey felt he might release it too soon so he pulled Mikleo’s hand gently away and laid it on his heaving chest.

Then pushing his body forward with Mikleo still on top of him, he laid Mikleo on the bed, his back to the mattress.

Making sure not to put all his weight on his upper torso, Sorey then adjusted his position and lay on top of Mikleo, breathing in his scent, flicking the smooth, silvery strands that strayed on his pale cheeks with the lightest brush of his fingertips as those amethyst eyes gazed back at him with wonder.

Sorey hasn’t forgotten what Lailah said… what his Gramps warned him about. Right now, he wanted the throbbing to calm down, wanted to wait for his heartbeat and his heat to relax and subside…

But the attraction was not making it easy… especially with Mikleo’s legs still wrapped around him. It was bad enough that his taut, lean body was caressing Sorey’s hips, bad enough that it was barely touching his awakened manhood… But brushing so lightly against that impatient, swelling hunger was even more frustrating, about enough to keep it yearning and anticipating, testing Sorey’s patience and resolve every single second.

Sorey’s hands weren’t helping either as they strayed toward his own top, lingering on the buttons. Seeing him hesitate, Mikleo’s fingers laced themselves in his hand, then one by one began pressing each button into its hole, slowly guiding Sorey’s hand through the silky fabric until it fell open to him.

With one breath, Sorey peeled it off, letting it fall halfway to the floor. Then with that out of the way, he leaned down and pressed himself against Mikleo’s white body, relishing the smoothness that rubbed against his skin, the softness that yielded to his caresses, the suppleness that made his mouth burn with every kiss as he put his lips on every trembling inch of Mikleo’s pale, beautiful skin… wetting it, tasting it, flicking his tongue and grazing his teeth on anything that can be reached without the awkwardness and reserve that he felt the first time they were intimate.

Mikleo gasped as Sorey caressed his naked manhood with his tongue, teasing its awakened state, making it harder and harder until it was wet and sore. Sorey wrapped his hand around its moist heat and, just like sheathing a dagger to its hilt, began easing the throbbing shaft into his hand again and again… giving it occasional flicks of his tongue to soothe the tightness, to comfort the hardening heat.

Mikleo trembled beneath him, his arms reaching down toward Sorey's nape, to cling there as relentless waves of pleasure gripped him, like a rising tide that is about to overflow and break an impenetrable dam…  

Sorey wasn’t that much farther himself…

Breathing hard into Mikleo’s skin as he tried to relax his muscles from quickening Mikleo’s pleasures, he found his own arousal wanting, aching for Mikleo’s attention. Unable to hold it in much longer, he reached down and eased his aching, raging cock from beneath the fabric—the only thing that kept it from plunging and sinking itself without shame.

Mikleo felt Sorey’s hand move on top of him, felt the hard, quivering flesh throb and pulsate in naked heat against his exposed skin.

_“Sorey…?”_

Sorey kissed him hard, almost bruising his lips. Mikleo desperately tried to push him away, but Sorey held him close.

"I know it's rough and selfish wanting you like this..." It seemed funny to Mikleo how the apology almost sounded out of place and character. "But I'd try to be as gentle as I can, Mikleo... I'd do my best not to hurt you... even if I know it _would_ hurt..."

Mikleo gasped as Sorey's teeth grazed him a little too sharply. "S-Sorey, that's a little..."

"That's not even close," Sorey breathed against his neck, chest heaving. "I can't help it, your body's just too small and beautiful, and it's driving me crazy."

Mikleo felt his chest pound heavily at how Sorey can be so straightforward at times like these.

He averted his face as Sorey bent down to tease that aching, hardening part of him. He bit his lip hard, trying not to groan as shamelessly as he thought Sorey was doing at the moment. His tongue moving up and down the length of his quivering cock felt too perfect that he could hardly imagine what pain Sorey could be afraid of.

"N-not hurt me... I... I don't think anyone can promise that..." Mikleo felt Sorey's lips linger on the crown of his throbbing need before sucking the very edge of the tip gently, almost teasingly. Mikleo gasped. "G-gods, S-Sorey!"

Sorey lifted his head to meet his gaze. "But I'll always want you like this... Is that too much?"

Mikleo felt the warmth and moisture of Sorey's mouth coat his swelling arousal, felt Sorey's lips tug and nip it gently, with an aching tenderness. The soft pressure made Mikleo clench the sheets around him tightly to keep him from gasping too loudly. "P-please stop... uh, that's... aahh... S-Sorey..."

"Do you _really_ want me to stop?" Sorey chuckled teasingly as warm liquid oozed out of the trembling shaft touching the tip of his tongue. He licked it eagerly, making Mikleo shiver visibly. "Since you kissed me first, you're partly responsible..."

This time Mikleo bit his lower lip, trying to restrain a moan from him as Sorey swirled his tongue around the sore tip of his cock. "F-fine, blame me, but... ahh... I can't...!"

Sorey relinquished Mikleo's cock, moving his mouth to the expanse of skin on Mikleo's stomach, loving the rush of heat there. He gave the flushed skin a patter of soft kisses. "But I want all of you, my Crimson Snow..."

 _C-crimson Snow?_ Mikleo wasn't sure what Sorey meant by it. But the emerald eyes seemed to guess what he was about to ask just the same.

"'Cause you're so pure and beautiful it hurts..."

Mikleo took a second to process that. "It's not true-"

Sorey bent down to press a kiss on Mikleo's navel. "It's what I believe, all right?"

Mikleo groaned helplessly, feeling his cock twitch with the pressure of Sorey's lips.

"At least this part of you agrees..." With that, Sorey turned his attention to where it was before, letting his tongue savor the oozing, swarming heat coating, spreading onto every inch of Mikleo's arousal, now quivering with every flick, every sucking motion he made with his eager mouth. And when Mikleo tried to move and push him away, Sorey chuckled, pulling him back effortlessly to press his thighs harder onto the bed as if to say there's no need to hide or hold back or be ashamed... because there's no way he would hold himself back now... no way he would stop himself from taking what he had wanted for so long...

Because what he feels is love that's pure and simple. After all those years of uncertainty and unrequited attention, there is nothing in the world that can make him stay away despite the warnings, the threats. Now that he has finally decided to be with Mikleo no matter what, all the responsibility and the blame... whatever punishment awaits in that uncertain future of theirs... is something he's willing to meet for both of them.

_lt's all worth it, I know it is... Just having you here with me like this... I'll never forget this moment ever, Mikleo...  and I'll never let you forget this either... even if I have to die for it..._

Relishing those thoughts, Sorey pressed harder, deeper, letting the heat and the scent drive him where Mikleo's arousal shivered shamelessly against his hunger. He felt Mikleo's breathing grow heavy, broken by helpless moans of pleasure as his body arched to meet the urgent press of his tongue and lips.

Not that Mikleo was the only one caught up in the pleasures of their foreplay. Sorey felt his own cock twitch restlessly as the wanton, fevered flesh hardened thickly in the swirling heat of his mouth.

Mikleo shook himself from the hypnotic desire overwhelming his senses as Sorey's tongue relentlessly held his manhood in captivity, lapping the entire length of him from base to tip until that part of him was sore and aching with need. Involuntarily he began digging his fingernails into Sorey's sweat, giving his shoulder a few scratches.

The motions made Sorey look up.

"S-Sorey... I... I don't think we should..."

Despite those words of denial, Sorey caught himself staring, mesmerized. With Mikleo so bare and vulnerable and open to him right now, it would take more than all the strength he has to stop now.

He licked Mikleo's inner thigh, moving his tongue slowly along the flushed skin. Mikleo's cock twitched more visibly this time, making Sorey smile into the motion.

"You're really beautiful, Mikleo... every part of you is..."

Mikleo felt his face burn. "But Sorey... I don't want... your lips..."

That made Sorey look up with a slight start, eyes questioning. He pulled in a harsh breath as if trying to suppress a violent urge within. "Do you want... should I stop-" 

It would have been easy to say 'yes,' but Mikleo knew in his heart of hearts that _that_ wasn't what his body wanted to say. 

As wrong as it seems, he didn't want Sorey to end it all here. His body, his soul... if there is a name for that deep, desperate yearning pulling him toward Sorey... needs _this_ , wants _this_ just as much. But...

"Your lips... your mouth..." Before Mikleo knew what he was doing, his fingers began to trace that exquisite shape above Sorey's chin.  

Sorey trembled visibly, leaning into the warm, subtle, affectionate caress. Mikleo felt his eyes moisten at the look of unabashed adoration those summer-green depths bestowed on him. Though he couldn't say it, that innocent, wide-eyed look was making him all the more conscious of his guilt, his shame, his nameless insecurities and fears.

"Just say what you feel, Mikleo" Sorey breathed against the kiss he planted on Mikleo's chin, his neck, the exquisite collarbone that Sorey found so hopelessly attractive. "I'm here for you, I'll listen."

Mikleo tried to hold his gaze, tried not to look too scared as the words fell from his lips. "I know you're good, Sorey... I believe you when you say you haven't touched anyone else. But I can't-I can't say the same for myself... And I won't-"

Mikleo was trembling now. "I won't let your mouth... or any part of you... get dirty because of me!"

"Is that all?" Sorey felt like laughing at Mikleo's confession, but he knew how serious it must mean to Mikleo and how it might hurt his feelings even more if Sorey simply brushed them aside. But to be honest, there was nothing in those words, nothing at all, that could shake his resolve. Because to put it simply, there is nothing to forgive or to regret.

He lifted Mikleo's leg up, exposing all the more the sore, pink flesh that had begun to throb anew in response to the attention he was giving it. Without even sparing Mikleo a second glance, he reached out to caress the hardening erection, to rub and caress the sensitive flesh between his fingers. Mikleo whimpered at the gentle, soothing strokes that Sorey lavished on it, swelling his need to the point of pleasurable pain. Sorey knew Mikleo's body was craving for more, felt the twitching hardness beg for something more intense. He himself was already at his limit, his own cock twitching and leaking, begging to be released from its owner's self-restraint.

Mikleo whimpered, unable to resist the pleasure of Sorey's hand working on him. His body arched shamelessly with every stroke, though it seemed it was craving for something else, something unreachable that can only be begged for without words. Mikleo's moans intensified. "Oh god, _god_... Sorey..."

"You'll have more, Mikleo..." Sorey reassured him, aroused by the sight of Mikleo's swelling, growing erection that followed his frantic strokes. He swallowed his urge as he felt the need to be a little bit more patient, to try a little bit more to soothe Mikleo's unspoken fears.

Sorey slowed down his strokes as a different hunger overtook him. He swallowed hard as moisture began to coat his fingertips. "Don't worry about getting me dirty, all right?" he breathed into Mikleo's skin, appreciating the scent that was calling out to him, hardening his urges. "It's not something you can ever do 'cause you're not allowed to think of yourself like that again."

Mikleo caught Sorey's eyes gazing at him with so much emotion, so much frustrated yearning that by degree alone seemed to command rather than beg. He knew right away what Sorey wanted then, what Sorey was asking of him.

Mikleo felt his heart race as he watched his cock become stiff at the way Sorey was raking his body with that intense, almost frightening gaze that seemed about ready to devour all of him.

He opened up to Sorey, spreading his legs farther apart even when he knew what the invitation meant.

It was Sorey's turn to swallow back a groan as he leaned forward to take Mikleo's throbbing, shivering cock into his mouth. He sucked the length of it harshly, making Mikleo cry out against the pressure of his tongue, his mouth squeezing onto, pulling and pushing against the sensitive flesh. Sorey eased it out with a rumbling groan, lifting his eyes to Mikleo with a frustrated sigh as he began to chase his breath."I want to kiss every inch of you, Mikleo, touch every part of you, suck you, lick you, taste all of you again and again. But then, if I were to be honest..." Sorey paused, giving Mikleo a look of intense longing. "I want to do more than just that. I'm hungry for something else... something only you can give..."

Mikleo's eyes widened with shock. "Sorey, as it is, I feel like I've been eaten alive a hundred times already!"

Sorey laughed a little. "C'mon, I can't take it more slowly than this... I've been patient enough, I think."

"That's mean." Then Mikleo saw the flash of impatience color Sorey's eyes with a slightly darker hue. "W-wait-I mean-what else is there-"

"Mikleo," Sorey acted on impulse, pressing his mouth against Mikleo's inner thigh, biting, licking, sucking the soft pliant skin that pulsed and vibrated against his tongue. He broke off the kiss with a harsh breath, forcing himself to pull away just long enough to meet Mikleo's questioning look. "I can't... hold it in anymore... It's a little too soon I know, but... can we...? Is it all right if we..."

The hunger, the pleading tone, the intense, smoldering gaze... Sorey's voice bristled with so much raw emotion it was enough to make Mikleo's heart stop. "Sorey?"

Emerald depths met his confused stare, and for a flicker of a second, the silence seemed deafening, as if even their heartbeats cannot contain what they both yearned to say, to do. "I want to go all the way with you..." Sorey finally breathed, lips quivering, arms reaching out to pull Mikleo closer. "I want to put all of it inside you, make love to you the whole night. Will you..."

Sorey kissed the slight swell on Mikleo's wrist with a shivering breath. "Will you let me?"

Mikleo would never forget those eyes. It was the first time anyone had looked at him with such overwhelming feelings they were almost frightening to watch... But still, how can he deny what was being asked of him when he had gone this far and done this much because it felt right...

Because it's Sorey... no matter how irrational that sounds. 

Mikleo squeezed his eyes shut, trying to fight off the desire that was making him want this just as much. "Sorey, I can't-don't understand why you'd want me... when you can have anyone... _someone_  out there who loves you too... someone clean, someone worth your-"

"But you're the only one..." Sorey pulled Mikleo to him, lifting his chin to meet his gaze. "The only one I want to do this with. I don't know what kind of proof you need to make you believe in me, but if marking every inch of you isn't enough..."

Mikleo shivered, feeling his body arch into Sorey's grip as he pulled him up and forward, hands roughly lifting his hip off the bed. Then leaning forward, Sorey took all of him... his need, his want, his quivering arousal into his mouth.

Sorey's groans were shameless as he sucked and ravished Mikleo's sensitive peak... that hard, aching, shivering cock that spilled Mikleo's essence into his mouth as if to quench an insatiable thirst for something his soul had been craving.

Sorey rolled his tongue around the sweet, quivering flesh, thrusting the whole length of it into his mouth again and again, sucking harder with a hunger that Mikleo found shamelessly irresistible.

The sensation was too new, too overwhelming that his fingers couldn't help clutching the sheets in sheer, undeniable pleasure. Mikleo pushed down at Sorey's shoulder with one hand as he shoved himself into Sorey's mouth desperately, moaning, leaking, trembling against Sorey's tongue as Sorey grasped him tightly by the flesh of his inner thighs, keeping the motion of his hips in just the right rhythm.

Mikleo felt his growing erection stiffen harder than he thought was possible, oozing, trembling with every bit of Sorey's fervent motions. "Sorey I... I might... make a mess..."

Emerald eyes met his with a fierce, hungry, yet pleading look. "You won't, if I can help it. I won't let a single drop of you go to waste..."

"But... what's coming out of me..." Mikleo crooned, eyes begging, shamefully embarrassed. "You can't-you don't have to-"

"Drink it?" Sorey teased softly, playfully, though his green eyes smoldered. "Why not?"

Mikleo averted his face. "I'm not-I don't think I'm clean enough..."

"Yes you are" Sorey whispered even more softly, tenderly, pressing warm lips against the hot, pink flesh that was oozing now, coating itself with those juices that smelled nice and sweet, so sweet and thick in his mouth. "Just like what I said, you'll always be pure... even this..."

Sorey watched the liquid trickle off Mikleo's erection and pool on the flushed skin of his abdomen. He leaned forward, wanting to lick all of it off, but Mikleo reached down and pushed him away.

However, there was nothing much Mikleo could do with the rest of his seed that spilled on Sorey's hands and fingertips.

Mikleo felt all of him tremble with desire at the sight of Sorey licking those off instead, sucking his fingers clean. It made him sit up. "S-Sorey! Th-that's... enough... don't!"

Pushing him back harshly, Sorey leaned forward and took all of Mikleo's hardening cock inside his mouth once more, sucking off his erection with a noisy, ravishing hunger that made Mikleo arch violently off the bed. Mikleo fisted the pillows next to him with a sobbing moan, unable to restrain the shameless cries that soon followed as Sorey groaned and grunted like a starved wolf, making wet, slick noises as he rammed the length of Mikleo's shivering cock up and down, in and out with his tireless mouth.

"S-Sorey... I... no..." Mikleo arched forward violently as Sorey's mouth squeezed around his tightening urges, catching the hot fluid that flowed steadily from his swollen peak.

For a few seconds, languid eyes met Mikleo's. "Just say you adore me and I'll stop... if you really want me to..."

Mikleo felt his eyes sting with hot tears, though he couldn't, would never, understand why. "All right, I-I adore you! Now, please... Sorey!"

Hearing those words finally, Sorey felt both their hearts beat wildly as he drew himself up only to bend down and kiss Mikleo's wrist with a breathless smile. "You know that making me stop will cost you something more... though I'm looking forward to it…" 

At that point, Mikleo felt Sorey's hard arousal throb between his thighs impatiently, as if it had been suffering too much from lack of attention and was begging for the longest time to be touched, to be relieved in some way. Mikleo couldn't help but wonder how he can do just that... or in what way he can help Sorey feel satisfied. He tentatively reached down to touch the pulsating shaft and shivered at the way the warm flesh quivered at the lightest brush of his fingers, swelling in a way that made him nervous.

Sorey's size was definitely something he would rather not imagine. It thrilled him and scared him to think what Sorey might feel inside him... that Sorey's arousal might stretch him farther than he might be able to accommodate...

He blushed furiously at the thought. How could he... why would he want Sorey this much, this desperately, when they've barely been together after what happened eight years ago?

The distracting thought dissipated the moment he felt Sorey wrap his hand around his own hand. Meeting Mikleo's shocked gaze, Sorey guided Mikleo's hand with his hand around his trembling cock, moving it up and down the hot, hard, swelling need. "Just like this Mikleo... I can't imagine anyone else... touching me the way you do..."

Mikleo felt the flesh getting more rigid, definitely hotter, harder inside his hand. But it was getting slick too, and Sorey's deepening groans were beginning to sound more frustrated and desperate every second.

It was so hot, so hard, so big and hungry and sore and Mikleo felt his own need responding to that.

"Your hand feels so damn good but gods... I want so much to come inside you... to feel every inch of you around me..."

Mikleo caught his breath in his throat as Sorey reached down and lifted his leg up, opening him scissor-like, with a vise-like grip that told him how badly and urgently Sorey wanted it at that moment. His eyes looked fierce and fond, a shimmering emerald-green that looked as bright and deep as the bottom of a summer lake.

Sorey's hand reached up to circle the shape of those pale lips that he had imagined kissing for the longest time, and for a brief second, he couldn't help but be teary-eyed as his breath caught in his throat at the realization of what was about to happen. Mikleo caught the expression, caught the slow, achingly tender smile that almost took his breath away.

"Mikleo, whatever happens from here on, I love you and that won’t ever change. You're my first and only… mine forever...”

And with that, all the heat, all the desire that was forsaken and forbidden came rising out, to thrust itself deeply, achingly, into the well of pleasures where Sorey knew it would belong forever.

Sorey sank himself slowly, carefully, feeling the tightness, the stretching depth squeeze against him. He groaned when he felt all of him enter Mikleo, plunged into the core of him in the exact same way he had always imagined it would feel. His hand involuntarily reached up to hold Mikleo by the nape as blood rushed to his cock with an intensity that made him groan, making that part of him painfully hard and aching and angry.

Sorey could only follow his raging impulse, slamming his hips against that forbidden space between Mikleo's legs to relieve his urgent manhood. 

"Aaahhh... S-S-Sorey..."

Mikleo's whimpering voice made him stop midway. "Mikleo, did I-does it... hurt?"

Mikleo shook his head. "I... I just hope you know how this goes... I mean-"

Sorey moved his thumb over the white spread of Mikleo's legs sprawled so openly, so shamelessly at him and chuckled teasingly. "I'm not the perfect lover yet, maybe, but..." Sorey bent down to pat kisses on Mikleo's feverish skin. "I'm sure in time I'd know everything there is to know about your needs... how to make you enjoy this more than I do. Until then I'd make love to you and love you as much as I can... until I'm sure you feel the same as I do..."

Mikleo's eyes widened. "Sorey... it's too soon to say..."

"That I love you?" Sorey shook his head. "I've always imagined it would feel this good with you, Mikleo, but dammit, it's nothing compared to this..." Sorey pressed his lips warmly against Mikleo's shoulder. "I don't think I'd feel this good if I didn't have deeper feelings for you. That's why..."

Sorey reached for his hand. "I'll take responsibility, Mikleo... I'll be by your side from now on... And I won't let anything come between us again."

Mikleo would have reacted to that declaration if Sorey had not taken the opportunity to slip his tongue inside Mikleo's mouth to suck him hard. Then slamming his hips forward, Sorey plunged his cock oh so deep into Mikleo, making Mikleo chase his breath as he cried out Sorey's name, even as Sorey himself hardly contained his own groans of pleasure with Mikleo's tunnel squeezing against his hard, impatient manhood.

Mikleo rocked his hips back and forth, following Sorey's gentle rhythm. "S-Sorey... Sorey... th-that feels..."

"Feels good?" Sorey twisted slightly, careful not to move too fast lest he release himself too soon. "Is-is that more comfortable?"

 Mikleo squeezed his eyes shut. "Oh... oh gods... Sorey..."

Sorey was unable to respond as clearly, breathing in their sweat, their scents mixing and blending with the heat of their bodies. "Oh... uh... ahhh... d-dammit... s-so good, g-gods... ahhh... g-god, gods... Mi-Mikleo... I-I'm... s-so... c-close..." 

Sorey had to force himself to focus as Mikleo's slick opening became hotter, embracing his need with a thick moisture that was driving him closer every second to the edge of an orgasm.

_Not yet... don't lose it now..._

Mikleo groaned, unashamedly and desperately grinding softly against Sorey as if Sorey's sudden stillness had made him crave, made him impatient and frustrated for something more filling.

Sorey kissed Mikleo's forehead, breathing hard himself but struggling to focus, to control himself even for the last time. "Mikleo... this will hurt... gods I know it will... but I'm going to push deeper... I'm going to move in and out inside you faster this time, all right? It may be rough but..."

Sorey looked so hopelessly frustrated that Mikleo grew still, meeting his steady gaze. "Just do it... I trust you..."

Sorey smiled, languid eyes unable to peel themselves away from those lavender depths that shyly averted their gaze. He bent down to put a quivering kiss on those lips that trembled, wanting to brush away Mikleo's fears, all that restrained panic and hesitation even when Sorey could feel his eager manhood desperately craving for attention.

"Mikleo, from now on, anything and everything I could give is already yours... 'cause I love you so much... and there's nothing in the world I'd deny you..."

Mikleo watched with widened eyes as Sorey reached out for his hand to intertwine their fingers. "Just as you give yourself to me so completely like this..."  

In the next second, Sorey pushed Mikleo's arms above his head with their fingers still intertwined and, with a violent jerk, thrust his hips forward deeply, so deeply that Mikleo felt his core being penetrated all the way through. With their quickened heartbeats racing and merging with that wet, fluid motion, Sorey started moving inside Mikleo with a rhythm that was first achingly slow and tender, his soft moans drifting away with that same soothing, pleading tone that made Mikleo eager to meet Sorey's arousal, to satisfy all its urgent desires.

Mikleo let his hands move against Sorey's chest, then his neck and shoulder, to caress the flushed and heated skin that was breaking into a slow sweat with the rhythm of their bodies. It didn't take long for the movement to spur Sorey on as his groans became deeper, harsher, rumbling in Mikleo's ears with an impatience that was soon accompanied by faster, deeper, more penetrating thrusts.

Emerald eyes locked onto his when he opened his eyes at the shocking rhythm in which Sorey began to move, his hips grinding the whole length of him inside Mikleo. Mikleo could feel Sorey's massive cock swelling even harder, more hotly, as it tunneled faster and faster inside him with relentless vigor. Even the noises of pleasure that came from the wet friction of their sex rubbing, pushing, clinging against each other only seemed to propel their urges, with Sorey crying out Mikleo's name like a harsh, desperate prayer with every deepening thrust, every vibration that left them both breathless and panting for more.

Their bodies intertwined tightly, Sorey reached down to caress Mikleo's own arousal against his own before pushing his hips back down, groaning as he felt their liquid fires ooze down their heated skin, blending, melting in the heat of their mutual pleasures.  

Sorey threw his head back as he ground himself into Mikleo, his hardening length finally reaching the deepest core of him. Unable to hold back, he pressed his whole weight on Mikleo's white, lithe body, feeling the desperate yearning to be one with him completely.

"G-gods... Mikleo... so g-good... oh god... god... I want to... fill you up... make you beg for more..."

The hot, tearing, searing pain made Mikleo flinch as Sorey tunneled into him relentlessly, lost in the sensation of Mikleo wrapped so tightly around his manhood. But as Sorey started to become slick and wet inside him, Mikleo felt an overwhelming pleasure wash over him too, dulling the discomfort and the pain as Sorey dipped and sank himself further, moaning and breathing raggedly against his neck.

Sorey's groans altered between wanting and begging as Mikleo felt the thrusts becoming more urgent, demanding, picking up a rhythm that matched Sorey's ragged, panting breaths. He knew both of them were about to reach the edge as wave after wave of pleasure from Sorey's trembling, shivering arousal made itself felt...

"Slowly, Sorey... or I'll... I'm gonna..."

"I know... I feel it too and I'm... oh gods but I can't-no, not without you!"

Mikleo grasped Sorey's neck as the thrusts went faster, Sorey's hand going down between Mikleo's thighs to grasp the hardness there that had become warm and slick with need.

Sorey's hand following the rhythm of his thrusts was just too much to enjoy quietly. Mikleo opened his mouth wide to cry out with pleasure as his body arched violently toward the grinding heat, telling Sorey without any needless pretension this time, how much he wanted it too.

"I'm... I'm coming... Sorey... Sorey... please..."

Sorey's response was a sharp, sucking sound on his shoulder as urgent fingers grasped his hips even more tightly, wrapping themselves possessively around the circle of his waist as Sorey's full weight came crashing down on his moist, heated body. 

Sorey couldn't help but breathe in Mikleo's feverish sweat, the sweet, intoxicating scent of his body in heat. He felt his hard, leaking cock pulsate and swell in response, flooding his body with a million, shivering sensations he had never felt before as an oozing thickness poured itself out onto his sweating body, spilling on his chest, his thighs, everywhere.

Watching, feeling the thickening pool cover their quivering urges, Sorey had to stop for a moment, mesmerized. But it was to last for only a few seconds.

To say the least, Mikleo's violent orgasm was the only thing he needed to throw all restraint away.

Pushing Mikleo's thighs much farther apart that he ever dared to do, Sorey plunged himself relentlessly into the gaping well of pleasure in front of him, slamming his hips, his entire body harder and harder against the wetness and the warmth clinging to his damp skin.

Mikleo groaned at the massive pressure that was entering into him in rapid, violent strokes, but Sorey was already lost into the motion.

He grabbed Sorey by the shoulder as Sorey ramped up his pace, rocking Mikleo's entire body up and down his sweating nakedness, those hard-toned muscles that would have broken Mikleo's body if he hadn't cried out harshly.

"I'm sorry but... I..." Sorey tried to slow down, stopping his breath for a few seconds. He watched his cock quiver in frustrated yearning. Without thinking, Mikleo grasped it firmly and guided it back inside of him.

Sorey felt every fiber of him quiver in response. It didn't take long for the thrusts to become as urgent and desperate as before, Sorey knowing he was almost at his limit.

"Oh Mikleo... Mikleo... gods... you're... aaahhh... so amazing... amazing... can't stop... can't... oh god!"

A hand went up to his mouth. Mikleo was still panting, the exhaustion making his voice weak. "N-not so loud, Sorey... please... we might... wake everyone up..."

Sorey sucked Mikleo's fingers with a breathless hunger, grounding his hips heavily, carelessly. His impatient thrusts rocked Mikleo's slender white body violently, even when it surrendered bonelessly to his hard, indignant cock, every inch of Mikleo's flesh finally spent and limp beneath Sorey's furious thrusts. "Don't care... you feel so... good... and I'm coming... I'm coming... forever... be like this... coming... Mikleo... Mikleo... oh god... god... _god_... _my Mikleo_!"

And in the merging heat, in the slow, aching movement of their bodies intertwining before the liquid fire made them quiver and groan each other's names harshly, hoarsely, nothing Sorey swore, ever felt more satisfying, more heavenly perfect...   

Even if the future that he's been told seemed as dark and uncertain as the shadows that loomed not so far behind.

 

 

**o)------------o)O(o------------(o**

 

 

 

 


	8. Yours Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Sorey and Mikleo languish in their feelings for each other, Heldalf and Lunarre make their move. Sergei Strelka becomes a pawn that is set to trigger the hands of Fate as well as the beginning of the most important battles Sorey and Mikleo have yet to face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've enjoyed writing this chapter. The delay was unavoidable because my first week in law school is %#@&% and I'm dying!!!! I will finish this fic no matter what, though, because a promise is a promise... and I love SorMik way too much.  
> Shepherd Sorey will appear in the next chapter, including Sorey and Mikleo as regular high school students. (Shepherd Sorey going to school with them is exciting to write!) After all, this fic is still high school to college AU, so these two geeks should have those moments too... :D  
> Thanks for those who left kudos and comments. Please comment guys, your words give me strength.  
> Again, I can't thank you enough! Let's all have a great week!
> 
> DISCLAIMER: The original story behind Tales of Zestiria and Tales of Zestiria the X belongs to Bandai-Namco and Ufotable respectively. Since the writer makes no profit from this labor of love and, in fact, struggles against shame and hopeless obsession every time she has to write an additional chapter for her self-pleasure and that of others like her, she respectfully makes a plea against any law suit. :D
> 
> Obsession has no shame, by the way. You've been warned. :D

# 

**o)------------o)O(o------------(o**

 

_If every breath, every quivered sigh_

_Can bring you closer to my lips_

_I would weave every particle of air into song_

_To hold your soul even for a moment_

_With words, and chain them there_

_Before you fall into shadows…_

_And if forgetting takes forever_

_I will write you among the stars_

_So that nothing, not even the moon, may rise above you_

_As every river and sea reflect you..._

_And if I too might forget you_

_Let my spirit be loosed among the wind and the trees_

_Back to those places where I died to remember_

_How beautiful it is to touch_

_Everything… and everything that you are._  

 

- **M.L.R.** , “Yours Again” from **_Mikurio: Rain, Stars, and Poetry_** , vol. 1,

also in **_Recollections: Journeys of a Shepherd Companion_** , chap. XVII 

 

**o)------------o)O(o------------(o**

 

 

Sorey couldn’t believe what he just did.

It was both more and less than what he had always explored in his deepest, most secret fantasies, and yet… and yet, it was everything he could ever hope for, everything he could ever be thankful enough for.

Mikleo was everything he had hoped, imagined, and fantasized him to be...

With that, Sorey wished he was more than able to match whatever Mikleo had thought of him... in a good way, of course. 

If there was anything at all that came as a surprise (though shock seems closer to the mark) it was the intensity of his physical need. He wanted Mikleo... craved and hungered for him in ways he never thought he _could_ or even _should_.

Admitting it now seems pointless but so is dwelling on his guilt. It was only when the haze of his first heat had finally broken, when the first bout of love's first lust had subsided that he came to the conclusion that he must be some perverted, heartless maniac to have Mikleo put up with all that exertion just when he desperately needed sleep.

Remorsefully, Sorey knew that even this subconscious lashing was no deterrent. After their _first time_ to be truly one and inseparable, after that maddening rush that made him realize what an orgasm really felt like, his body began craving again. Even when he wanted to ignore the prominent bulge that betrayed his throbbing arousal under the sheets, he found himself spreading _really_ wet kisses on Mikleo's back, found himself grinding against the creamy, white smoothness of those firm hips.

This time, Mikleo whispered something vague and pushed him away, but with Sorey being the heavier one the defense was self-defeating.

Sorey slipped a finger inside Mikleo's entrance, gasping with pleasure when he felt the wetness easily guiding him in, welcoming his impatient thrusts. With a shiver, Mikleo gasped weakly, muttering something incomprehensible, but Sorey was already too caught up in the ritual to stop, pushing his fingers in and out, in and out with a quivering groan, with a shuddering, breathless plea for Mikleo to let him. Then with his other hand, he reached down to press the tip of his cock, hoping to keep it calm as it swelled with that same frightening excitement, with that wanton, selfish wanting that ignored his desperate pleas to wait.

To wait for Mikleo to be comfortable enough, at least until Sorey has completely prepared him for what his body has been aching to do.

"Sorey..."

Mikleo's muffled whimper came as a delicious surprise, admitting more than his shyness was willing to let on. Sorey was well aware that Mikleo must be tired and in desperate need of sleep, but no matter what he tried (counting steals, middle-of-the-field power shots, and knuckleballs sure didn't work this time) Sorey just couldn't convince his body to cool down, at least long enough to ease the strain between his legs that was begging to be relieved. 

He let lips cover that flawless skin peeking from the tips of silver barely clinging to the sides of Mikleo's jawline. He traced the contour with his tongue, breathing in Mikleo's scent, which he found peculiarly rich, intoxicating, a mix of mint and floral vanilla with just the slightest hint of spice. Feeling his own hardness complain yet again for more attention, he added another finger inside Mikleo, feeling his whole body arch with the motion.

He heard Mikleo gasp with a sharp intake of breath. Sorey groaned, steeling his hand as he felt his own swelling ache threaten to burst.

Mikleo twitched, feeling the roughness of those fingers pushing harder, reaching deeper and deeper into some intimate spot he never thought existed within him.

"Sorey... that's..." 

"Just perfect..."  Sorey groans in a half-whimpering whisper, already feeling the unbearable agony of holding back, of keeping his urges in check. Every intake of breath was killing him as he tried to steel his racing heart long enough to convey the overwhelming adoration pulsing through his senses. "You're so tight... and it feels so good... and I want you so bad but..."

Sorey brushed the tip of his erection against the quivering hole it had been desperate to penetrate. But he pulled back as if in afterthought, replacing it with his finger. 

"I can wait... I'm not coming without you..." 

Mikleo's lavender eyes gave him a languid frown that was cute enough to make him lose himself right there and then.

Sorey sucked in his breath, letting his fingers rest inside Mikleo. "And I want to make you feel just as good as I'm feeling right now... 'cause you're so amazing..." 

Saying it though just makes it even more frustrating. Sorey felt the knot in his stomach tighten, felt the pressure build up within him like a geyser that had been threatening to burst. He just couldn't get enough, and his hardness wanted more, so much more. It seemed as if his initial contact with Mikleo had triggered everything, telling him how starved his body truly was, how it had been neglected for so long that it must fill itself to the brim. There had been opportunities before, dates with strangers who had been too willing to be taken advantage of, but the attraction was never there, nothing even close to this. With Mikleo right now, his urges felt like the bottom of a parched well in the middle of a desert that had been desperate for rain for centuries... like the unquenchable thirst of a madman who would kill for every single drop... every bit of moisture that could wet its dry and hungry mouth...

And even now that they're intimate, the frustration is still there lingering and burning like a fire that wants to consume everything... that simply wants to feed and ravish until nothing remains. 

Sorey groaned at how selfish and perverse that image was. But when Mikleo stuttered his name to him begging him to slow down, Sorey knew it was a losing battle. Unfastening his hold on his own throbbing erection, he reached for Mikleo's arousal, which told him just how much Mikleo wanted and desired what he has been doing. Smoothing feather-light flicks of his tongue on Mikleo's shoulder, Sorey then dipped his mouth into that space between Mikleo's lower jaw and the back of his neck, making sloppy kissing noises as he grazed his teeth along the soft contour of his nape and spine.

Withdrawing his fingers from inside Mikleo with a groan, he wrapped his hand around his own need, thumb pressed on the tip of it to hold off the excitement that was making him want to come right there and then.

"Sorey... Sorey..." Mikleo didn't mean to beg, but the sudden absence of those pliant fingers entering him again and again was close to agonizing.

For a full second, Mikleo realized how shameless he was. But then the heady need was there, and everything else just didn't seem as important...

"I know, I know... but Mikleo... uh-oh... oh god..." It was the closest to an apology Sorey could manage in the middle of their pulsing heat. He knew he needed to hold back and focus on giving Mikleo those same pleasurable sensations he was giving him... to prolong the experience of being wanted, of being together with absolutely nothing in between. But he was worried that they might _both_ come too soon if he gave in to what they both wanted desperately at the moment.

Mikleo's soft pleas, however, were not making it easy. 

The pressure within him threatening to spill, he bit Mikleo hard along the smooth slope of skin just below his nape, hoping that would be enough to distract them both. But when Mikleo shivered beneath him with a hissing intake of breath, the pounding, irrepressible heat that pooled in his abdomen almost made him jerk. Sorey knew that his stubborn manhood wanted a different kind, a more intimate kind of stimulation, not the self-help he was giving it at the moment.

Sorey gave himself a few seconds to think about their situation. It wasn't like it never occurred to him to try to calm his stupid hormones for Mikleo's sake. But even when he told himself a million times that what he was doing was selfish and insensitive, that in fact he should be taking care of Mikleo who was still recovering from that vicious attack just days ago, the throbbing heat between his legs wouldn't listen.

The nearness of him, the scent of him, the knowledge that Mikleo was just within reach, so pliant and soft even in the middle of his resistance was a seduction too tempting to let go.

Thinking about it, was he too blinded by his attraction to not realize that this was almost rape? Or to be honest, it couldn't be anything but _that_ as he did everything he could to break Mikleo's resistance whenever he pushed him away. 

Of course, it wasn’t like he didn’t even _try_ to hold himself back. Gramps and Lailah’s warnings were clear to him: there are boundaries between him and Mikleo that should never be crossed, that should remain untouched and untouchable. For as long as nothing remains certain as to how Nimue may be unleashed, how the Vessel may be triggered from within or how the seal that has been placed upon Mikleo may be broken, he must exercise utmost precaution at all times. Lailah was by no means even trying to be indirect when she emphasized the contradiction that spells the absolute difference between the Insidion as the Lord of Malevolence and Nimue as its Heart:

_Sorey, by all means does Nimue, the essence of Time that transforms Chaos through Rebirth, stand against her Lord and likewise Master, her nemesis and irreconcilable half… She stands opposed to all and everything that her Lord is… all the desires borne from lust and selfish intentions that the Lord preys upon to increase its own power and make itself invincible is what she fights against… At this point it’s even possible that Eizen’s animus reacted wildly to defend the Vessel against the presence of hellions, perhaps to preserve nothing more than the Vessel’s purity against any desire or malevolent will…_

_We can only surmise that given those circumstances that have been around from the beginning, the Oath of Purity that has been exchanged between the Vessel’s guardians and protectors and by the Vessel himself needs to be maintained, in order to insure that the seal shall remain intact…_

_Likewise, much remains in your hands, as to the protection of the Vessel should you decide to do what you must from here on… as we all believe that everything has always depended on the outcome of your true will and resolve…_

But all those warnings dissipated like steam the moment their lips touched, the moment he felt Mikleo’s soft, creamy skin against him. Those moments filled him with the mental image of his arousal sliding inside Mikleo's slippery entrance even now, as he yielded to their urges and pressed urgent fingers back into that tender opening, letting those thrusts move back and forth, inside out to stretch the reddening tightness, to comfort the need that was squeezing against him with the same desperation, the same frustration.

Sorey was just about to learn his limits when it comes to foreplay... how agonizing it was to make his own erection wait while Mikleo was grounding deep and hard into those fingers as soon as he felt them inside of him again, giving Sorey a clear sign of how Mikleo sexually desired him as well...

Sorey was pleasantly shocked to know this much, almost afraid that Mikleo would hate him for being so aggressive so soon. He was more than relieved and amazed to know that Mikleo's idea of being intimate was just as physically intense as his because it definitely included wanting _that_ part of Sorey inside of him... that it was not just Sorey taking all the pleasure from that kind of physical connection, that sort of lustful abandon that felt sinful because neither of them are even eighteen yet, but there was no denying that the pleasure was nothing like he has ever known, as guilty as he may feel about it.

Some part of him, though, couldn't help wishing he knew a lot of _other_ ways to give Mikleo the same intense pleasures. Certainly Mikleo deserved to feel good and be loved more than anyone he could think of... to feel the same passions that for Sorey are irreplaceable memories that could have no equal in the world.

He felt just a little afraid admitting that. That he could be so vulnerable to pain if he should lose Mikleo now... lose the chance of being like this with him in the future he could never spend with anyone else...

The fear made his fingers desperate, forcing a surprised moan from Mikleo. His better self kept telling him to wait a little more... or at least a part of him thought he could... but as soon as Mikleo's breathing began to relax somehow, as soon as Mikleo's entrance became slick and smooth and wet against his tireless fingers, he grabbed Mikleo's hips and shoved his hard, aching, impatient need deep and hard where his fingers were, his voice stuttering Mikleo's name like a hopeless prayer.

"Oh god, god, g-god, oh Mikleo... Mikleo... s-so good... so tight... inside you..." 

Mikleo gasped, arching his hip forward even when the familiar stabbing pain stretched him beyond what he thought was possible. "S-Sorey... Sorey... I... I think I'm... aaahhh..."

Mikleo's own groans were lost in the panting breaths and grunts coming from Sorey. Of course, it wasn't like Sorey only thought of his own satisfaction. To be honest, his better side was holding back, wanting to listen and be sensitive enough, but the feeling of their merging heat was just too much; the realization that this night was his first time ever, the night he has lost his virginity to someone he wanted and desired for so long in every single way felt so much more amazing than anything he has ever wished for. Biting the soft flesh beneath Mikleo's collar bone, he gave in to the heat of his urges, sinking himself even deeper into Mikleo's well of pleasures, letting the oozing wetness swallow him whole.

It was pointless to bite down the pleasure that quivered in his throat. Shivering, he cried out in a breathless groan and pressed one hand each on Mikleo's waist, lifting him off the bed as he ground his impatient arousal against Mikleo's shivering heat.    

"You're mine and I'm yours... I'll always be yours..."

The pleasure was driving him mad... the tightness, the push and pull that took his breath away every time he plunged his aching hardness into the pleasures of Mikleo's tight and tiny opening... The waves of pleasure running up and down his spine felt just as strong and powerful as their first time, felt as new and exciting and mind-shattering that he couldn't keep himself from thrusting again and again, from sinking himself so fully and shamelessly with his nails digging into Mikleo's thighs to keep him pinned right where his hard and aching need wanted him. 

His grunts must have been louder than before that Mikleo, in a panic, reached up and clamped his mouth a little too harshly. "Sorey... not... not so loud... please..."

Sorey let out a moan, though he knew it was more like a childish whine begging for something undeserved. "But Mikleo... can't... hold it... want you so much I'm-I'm dying..." 

"Sorey-gods-that's the lamest excuse a guy would-"

"Don't care, so hard... to think of anything else when I'm... on top of you..."

Mikleo shivered as Sorey lowered himself again, pushing his thighs apart with his own. "D-don't-"

"Shush... just lay still my naked beauty... and let me do all the work..."

Mikleo felt every inch of him quiver as Sorey breathed onto his skin, pushing Mikleo's hand back onto the pillows and intertwining their fingers as he descended on Mikleo's swollen lips, eager to nibble and relish their moist sweetness.

Mikleo was just that to him-sugary, spicy, minty and intoxicatingly, maddeningly sweet... his mouth, his sweat, his delicious scent...

He must have bitten harder than he had consciously wanted to, making Mikleo squirm with a slight gasp. Those tiny, whimpering, pleading noises that came from those sensuously curved lips, however, only made his need more desperate, more intense, making him want to suck and bite more savagely, to tease the aching softness with the hardness that wanted nothing but to penetrate and be satisfied.

Mikleo gasped, involuntarily clenching his fingers against Sorey's chest. "Uh, S-Sorey... gently... it..." 

"I know... I'm sorry I couldn't help it but..." Sorey reached for those slender, tapering fingers that were turning him on every time they squeezed, clutched and scratched at him. "You don't know how much I want you Mikleo... wanted you so much... all this time..." 

He let his mouth descend on the tiny pink buds surrounded by the creamy pale smoothness of all that skin bared to him. Sorey let his tongue play with the rosy peaks a bit more before his masculine instincts took over and before he knew it, he was sucking and rolling his lips around them, tugging, pulling, and relishing the taut feel of those erect buds arching into his mouth.

He felt something slick and wet and warm moistening the places of contact beneath them. Sorey couldn't help jerking his head and groaning as he felt Mikleo's arousal responding intimately to his caresses. He felt his own need swell to that, thrusting itself deep and hard to tell Mikleo how much he wants it now, how much he's been holding back until Mikleo's ready and willing. 

"S-Sorey... s-so rough and hot..."

He knew Mikleo must have intended that to slow him down, but his brute instincts were just beyond discipline.

He grunted an acknowledgement that earned him a kick from Mikleo.

Sorey panted, bending down to suck at Mikleo's ankle when he caught his foot. "Wh-what's that for?"

Mikleo winced. "Too big... and hard... get off me Sorey!"

Sorey shook his head with another frustrated groan, feeling his erection become even more slick with every hardening thrust. "But you feel so good... and I'm not done yet... and I want to be with you like this longer..."

"You're just..." Mikleo tries to hold back a moan as the words he wanted to convey almost dissipated when Sorey resumed what he was doing, unfazed by Mikleo's protests.

"So damn good?" Sorey groaned into the thrusting motion, glad he had enough mind to say something comprehensible.

"So... selfish..."

Sorey flicks a look at him, languid eyes betraying everything he felt. "God, can't help it... when it comes to you..." 

Dipping his head to rub his cheek against Mikleo's hair and forehead, he let his mouth trail slow, wet kisses down Mikleo's jawline then his chin, his neck, down to his collarbone and all the way to his stomach, stopping just a little below his navel. Then just as Mikleo thought he could relax at the pause that Sorey made on that spot, he felt something wet and tight engulf his entire need, felt Sorey's mouth sucking that sore and tingling part of him shamelessly from the base up to the tip, sliding it over and under his tongue until Mikleo felt so stiff and hard he had to bite his lip and dig his nails into Sorey's shoulders to keep himself from crying out. 

Not that Sorey had anything against scratches. The slight stings and prickly sensations he got from Mikleo's nails felt more erotic and sensual than painful, encouraging him to suck harder, to let his mouth relish the moist heat coating Mikleo's arousal with a thick, sweet scent. He knew from the way Mikleo's hips arched eagerly toward his mouth how much he wanted it too... and there was nothing more satisfying than letting Mikleo know how much he wanted to share this secret with him... and how he would never tire of doing this again and again.

With him. Only him...

It was Mikleo's turn to cry out as his shaft shivered in anticipation. It was embarrassing though, and he couldn't imagine Sorey doing that just when...

He blushed at the thought of what he might taste like... what Sorey would think letting him arch so willingly, so eagerly into his mouth like that, even when his erection was moist with their intermingling urges.

He had almost forgotten that they've done this just a few hours ago. Still, he had hoped that what happened _then_  was enough... that making love meant establishing boundaries, limits that Mikleo knew was more a matter of dignity and shame to him rather than technique or anything else. 

"S-Sorey... don't... I can't anymore..." 

To Sorey though, that sounded more like a moan of pleasure than a groan of complaint, making that part of him throb and swell even more fiercely, pushing him over the edge.

Straddling Mikleo, he caught both his arms above his head with one hand and pushed Mikleo's thighs up his shoulders with the other, even when Mikleo's eyes widened at him in shock. After all, it left Mikleo irrevocably, unashamedly open to him as he trailed his tongue further down, down, where the wetness and the soreness and the scent made his hardness impatient to the point of making him whimper against Mikleo's skin.

"W-what are you doing... S-Sorey!"

Emerald eyes gazed at Mikleo languidly, a thumb brushing against his lips fondly, tenderly.

Sorey never wanted anything this much... and even if it meant begging, he could feel no shame, no guilt.

Having Mikleo is far more precious than anything. And it was worth everything...

The first words that came out of his lips as he gazed at Mikleo's shameless nudity was hardly what his lust wanted to convey. But it was much closer to the truth than anything.

Mikleo seemed to melt under that lustful gaze. Sorey pulled back slightly to take in all that creamy white skin he had abused with so many kisses it was flushed and gleaming with sweat and moisture.

"You're so damn beautiful, Mikleo... All I can think of is how good it would feel to make love to you every single minute..."

Mikleo averted his face. "That's an awful lot of sex, don't you think? For our age at least?"

Sorey felt his heart sink a million notches. "You-do you hate it?"

That was an honest question. Mikleo didn't know how to answer it, though.

"It... it feels... new..." Even before the words slipped out, Mikleo knew that was lame. A lame lie. Or not to be too harsh on himself, a stupid understatement.

"It's beyond words for me," Sorey said simply, feeling his cock swell and twitch ravenously at the sight of Mikleo's feverish skin, the pale, silky smoothness of it which now glistened with moisture from the sweat of their sex. It was arousing, and it made him want to thrust even deeper, but for now he should wait for himself to calm down a bit, so he reached out and stroked Mikleo's hair, pushing away those strands that stuck onto the slight moisture on his cheek.

Mikleo didn't know how, but the touch felt soothing in a way. He leaned slightly into it, closing his eyes.

"I'm sorry I sort of... forced you into it... but I want you Mikleo... and wanting you is as much a part of me as anything else I feel about you." 

Mikleo gasped as he felt Sorey's throbbing need growing, building up heat between his thighs. His own erection was not too far off, waiting for a chance for release.

"It's all right..." Mikleo hummed, not sure exactly what he said it for. There was something hypnotically relaxing about Sorey's light touches that he couldn't help feeling sleepy as if it was the first time in weeks. He sank bonelessly against Sorey's chest despite the tingling arousal pricking his lower half, which was slowly becoming disconnected to the rest of him.

He felt like he could stay like this forever, languishing in Sorey's fluid strokes against his cheek. That other part of him felt stiff and hard, but he didn't mind the slight discomfort, feeling his mind floating farther and farther away into a feathery haze where there was nothing but softness and tenderness... a comforting warmth keeping him safe and at peace. 

But it was different for Sorey. If anything, Mikleo looked so unguarded and vulnerable, so meek and submissive that his cock twitched and became painfully hard, making him moan Mikleo's name between breaths as he tried to suppress his urges.

It wasn't working, not that he expected it to. His aching need wouldn't let up even if he knew it were better if Mikleo stayed like that, like a baby getting his much-needed sleep. 

Already his lips began moving against Mikleo's shoulder, giving it warm flicks of his tongue.

Mikleo's eyes fluttered slightly, but he remained still against Sorey, breathing as softly as ever.

Sorey trailed wet kisses along Mikleo's shoulder up his nape and then down again, nipping the skin a little to distract himself from his own throbbing erection. "I know it hurts... but I want to come inside you again and again... want to move inside you like before and fill you up..."

Mikleo opened his eyes more in reaction to the sharp sting of Sorey's bite between his collarbone and armpit than in response to the heavy, explicit lust interlaced in those words. Just the same, it didn't take long for him to notice how Sorey's languid gaze raked him up and down, lingering on his half-hard erection that was slightly yet visibly responding even to that subtle, non-physical attention Sorey was giving it.

Mikleo tried to cover it up by shifting his thigh sideways, but Sorey was quick, reaching down to give the rising shaft a feather-light caress.

Mikleo's cheeks burned as Sorey looked up with a smile that spoke so clearly of desire and adoration, soaking him up with those emotions that he could not help but suppress as desperately as he could.

Sorey saw the elusive gaze, the cold, almost stubborn, unyielding reflex that wanted to overcome the aching tenderness that was threatening to spill from those lavender depths. He couldn't believe until now how he wanted to chase it all... those serious, brooding, almost indignant gazes that evaded his feelings whenever their eyes met in these heated moments. Mikleo almost always seems far away, lost in thought in his own mind or his nameless fears and self-doubts. But even so, those surreal, amethyst eyes looking at him that way pulled at his heartstrings, provoking all the lust within him to come out and dominate. 

Right now, though, his hand was competing with that thought, fueling his raging impulse in some _other_ way. He looked down and watched as Mikleo's desire began to coat his fingers.

The pink, soft, sensitive skin around Mikleo's peak tingled, becoming tense and rigid even as his fingers began to slip smoothly around the curve of it. Sorey quickened the motion as Mikleo whimpered against him, fingers moving up his heaving chest, feeling him up erotically in ways that Mikleo seemed oblivious of.

"God, Mikleo, you're so amazing and perfect... and I'm-I-" Sorey was distracted by the hardening flesh warming to his strokes, shivering to his touch, the sound of Mikleo urging him on as he dug his nails into his exposed skin with growing urgency. He reddened at the sight of Mikleo's cock twitching between his fingers.

As for Mikleo, he never thought anyone as overwhelmingly masculine as Sorey could be so red and flustered, embarrassed and self-conscious as if he was a shy, little boy of six crushing on someone for the very first time. Afraid as he was to confront such intense feelings, Mikleo found himself wanting to watch Sorey.

What he saw was somewhat endearing, even when it stirred conflicting feelings within him. Right now, the bright, emerald eyes that gazed back at him with a soft, yet intense longing looked as raw and pure as those of an innocent child who wants without malice, who craves without false pretensions, that somehow one must consider their owner to be someone entitled to his pleasures, even if those seem somewhat selfish and undeserved.

Not that Mikleo thought of himself as a prize or a trophy. Then again, there is comfort in imagining Sorey having to _deserve_ someone like him.  

But just as those thoughts had begun to linger comfortably, innocuously in his mind, Sorey let his hand shift to Mikleo's waist. Then lining himself up, he guided the tip of his cock slowly, barely at the rim of Mikleo's entrance before plunging himself deeply, so deeply into Mikleo that it made Mikleo gasp in broken breaths.

Even when Mikleo tried to dull the pain with images of Sorey's warm, sweet smile that looked as innocent and harmless as cinnamon, the hot, swelling need thrusting in and out of him with a crazed, frantic, urgency cut into his senses, stretching him to the point of pain. Waves of pleasure came with it, accompanying the grinding rhythm of Sorey's body on top of him, moist with delicious heat as it rocked against his hips and thighs in wanton, reckless abandon.

Somehow, just knowing that he is satisfying Sorey, that Sorey definitely, absolutely desired him in this rough, unhampered way made him happy, made him content enough to close his eyes and succumb to whatever Sorey wanted to do with him, even when that includes biting and marking him all over again until every damn inch of him was sore and aching. He wouldn't be surprised if he finds purple bruises on the same places where Sorey licked and kissed and sucked with a feral intensity that made him twist and groan with shock and pleasure.

Then he felt a frightening rush possess him, sending quivering shivers down his spine. Sorey perked up, smiling with languid satisfaction, unaware of the violent abuse Mikleo felt under that stare, with every rough entrance that sheathed and unsheathed Sorey's rough, relentless manhood with his own broken flesh.

He had a mind to scratch at Sorey's chest as the pain and the pleasure intermingled inside of him. Digging into Sorey's hard muscles with his fingernails was mostly an effort to keep him from blackening out, from being knocked unconscious with the heady, heavy feel of those sensations rolling into him like a giant wave.

He was coming...

Sorey felt Mikleo tremble like a broken doll in his arms. It was enough to make him feel almost guilty. "Just-just let it happen... it's gonna be all right..."    

Mikleo tightened his hold on Sorey, grasping his neck as if he needed a pillar to support him in what was about to happen next.

Sorey felt his own body ache with a starving urgency as Mikleo moaned and began to shiver against Sorey's cock that was still inside of him, trembling against that pleasure spot inside of him. Mikleo couldn't help but squeeze his eyes shut with shame and tender surrender as something began to ignite from within him, threatening to spill...

He was close. He was coming...

Sorey had to tell himself to wait, to reserve this pleasure for Mikleo as the convulsing heat drove him to his own limits. The quickening pulse was irresistible though, and he found his hands lingering around the warm, trembling need that rubbed against his own heated skin. But watching his own hands at work on Mikleo only intensified his hunger and heat, making him more impatient as he dipped his mouth to meet the quivering flesh that was wet and slick with desire, to lick and ravish it to its limits...

To taste and drink all of it until he is filled... the way he wants to fill Mikleo's own wants and needs.

Mikleo closed his eyes as their intertwined bodies merged in the heat of his orgasm that he couldn't hold in any longer. "Sorey... Sorey..." 

"I know, I know love... I really want you to come first..." 

When Mikleo looked away embarrassingly, reacting to the implications of _that_ word he could never get used to, Sorey chuckled softly and brushed Mikleo's left cheek with a fingertip, coaxing those lavender eyes to meet his gaze.

The he pulled out of Mikleo slowly only to let his lips trail down Mikleo's navel, dipping lower and lower, until he has arrived at the pink, trembling peak.

Mikleo gasped. He was coming hard and Sorey was right there below to catch all of it. "S-Sorey, don't!"

Hips trembling, arching as if to contradict his restraint, his body gave a violent push forward, right into Sorey's mouth.

He was spilling, overflowing, oozing with unrestrained desire. His lust coated Sorey's lips as his seed spurt into his mouth, onto his cheek, filling the air with the sweet scent of lavender and the heady spice of lust. 

"Really... you're-" Mikleo held his breath, skin becoming quickly feverish with the attention Sorey was giving it as tongue and lips licked him off. "... embarrassing..."

Sorey sucked and swallowed, trying not to think too much of his own cock quivering impatiently for the same stimulation. Pulling himself up, he grazed his thumb on Mikleo's chin, feeling his waiting cock yet twitch again at the languid look of pleasure that those lavender eyes bestowed on him before they shut close.

Then Mikleo threw his head back a little, almost invitingly, in a way he had never done before.

In that brief, wordless gesture, Sorey understood and his heart raced, drummed, making him chase his own breath.

He kissed Mikleo with a passion, starting with his neck, trailing his tongue up his chin then his lips, making Mikleo gasp when he pushed his tongue inside his mouth to suck and pull with relish. Then, taking hold of Mikleo's hip and upper thighs, Sorey broke their kiss with a breathless moan, not letting his gaze leave Mikleo's surprised look.

Sorey had a few seconds to focus on his breathing, reaching down to stroke Mikleo's growing erection.

Mikleo squirmed at the shocking response his body was giving to Sorey's every slight motion. He wanted to look away and hide if he could.

Sorey groaned, seeing the shy, embarrassed coldness in Mikleo's evasive profile. It was crazy to think that such little things, such absurdly non-sexual things could turn him on like hell.

Then again, the fact that Mikleo could be so aroused so quickly after an orgasm gave him a sense of pride that was beyond relief.

Likewise, that Mikleo could lose himself to him so quickly even when his words, his cold, quiet gazes denied such wanton lust was seductive in itself. Sorey knew he was lost.

He has absolutely fallen for Mikleo. And there it was, the beauty and tragedy of loving someone too much that pain becomes inevitable. Not that it can drive away the heat, the lust, this pure, wild, insatiable hunger that makes him want Mikleo no matter what demons might come.

"Let's come together..." he moaned into Mikleo's neck, feeling the irrepressible heat rush to his cock to fill it. "... 'cause I want you bad... so bad... and can't wait any longer..."

Mikleo mumbled a 'yes' against Sorey's chest as he opened himself up, trembling with the need to believe that he's ready for what's to come.

And with that, Sorey lifted Mikleo's hips to him with a rough, almost violent grip, grinding his hard, swollen cock inside Mikleo with quick, alternating movements. The slick, wet sounds of his urges tunneling into Mikleo was encouraging, seductive, pushing Sorey to go faster. It was wonderful how his length entered Mikleo more smoothly this time, reaching far more deeply than it was able to before, stretching the tightness around it with every push and pull that followed the wild, feverish rhythm of their bodies. 

It was amazing the way Mikleo's softness yielded to his hard and heated manhood. Every thrust brought him closer to the edge, made him want to cry out. He must have been pretty close to doing just that because Mikleo's hand moved to his mouth in a panic. Sorey knew right there and then that he really must have lost it completely... that falling for Mikleo means losing himself like this again and again...

Not that he can do something about it. Whatever he wanted to think or say was lost in the sound of his voice calling Mikleo's name and begging him to come.

And when he finally felt Mikleo's liquid heat trickle against his moist skin, his mind went blank. His orgasm hit him like a violent wave followed by a million ripples, ebbing inside him with a pleasure that made him cry out. In the wild, tumultuous heat, he let Mikleo cling to his neck as he pushed himself hard, harder than he did the first time they made love. With a desperate moan that told Mikleo how much he wanted him he rocked his hip forward, grasping Mikleo by his lower hip to lift him off the bed and into his hard, aching manhood that wanted nothing more but to fill Mikleo up, to ground itself into him until its hunger is satisfied.

Mikleo held his breath when he felt the enormous shaft grow even wider, harder, hotter within him, pulsating in time with Sorey's quickened heartbeat. Sorey gasped as shivers of heat pooled in his abdomen and crawled down his groin, then the hot, penetrating, liquid fire pushed itself into Mikleo's intimate flesh with a mad, excited burst.  Even as his orgasm shook him and made his mind go blank for a few seconds, Sorey managed to reach for Mikleo’s wrist to press it to his lips, to savor the moisture of his sweet scent there as he ground himself mad into Mikelo's center, relishing the tightness that was clenching his arousal as if to squeeze every ounce of desire it had.

Not that he could ever deny him that. His desire was Mikleo's alone to relish... his intimate passions were for Mikleo's eyes and hearing alone to confirm...

Everything that happened tonight is meant only for Mikleo's achingly beautiful body, his own secret pleasures which Sorey will always look forward to, just as he eagerly wished for their future to be just like this, filled with precious, irreplaceable moments that conveyed their deepest wants and feelings...   

Even now, he can hardly think of anything but spending more intimate moments with Mikleo. The delicious swarm of heat thickly oozing from him was incomparable to anything he has ever felt before because it was his heart that yearned for this to happen. And Sorey could never hope to be happier, more satisfied and content knowing that love feels this good.

Here is Mikleo. Here is a dream that is absolutely his and his alone, to touch and pleasure and want... and definitely to love in the most intimate way possible. 

He caught Mikleo's eyes fluttering open to gaze at him softly, embarrassingly, with a hint of a smile that told him, he hoped, how deeply satisfying it was for him too.

Of course, there's no denying Sorey was a bit embarrassed himself. His chest was heaving and his throat felt dry. He couldn't count how many times he had cried out Mikleo's name or panted "God, I'm coming, I'm coming, oh please, Mikleo... aahh, so good, so good... I love you, I love you, oh god..." which was the only thing that registered so clearly in his memory before he violently came inside Mikleo, to claim him once more with the same overpowering seed only his true feelings can give.

Still, he couldn't calm down as easily or quickly as he did after his first organism. For a few more seconds his chest heaved and his body trembled; every muscle inside of him seemed to quiver and shake with a pounding, hammering sort of excitement and satisfaction that made him clutch Mikleo's hand tightly against his racing heart. He was breathless, exhausted, soaked in the thickness of their sweat and arousal but he has never been so happy. It seemed as if his entire being had been freed from itself and had melted away only to become one and whole again inside Mikleo...

In the heat of his small, beautiful body, in the scent of his coming that made Sorey wet and sore and wanting for more...

Sorey panted, letting a whisper graze Mikleo's ear. "So perfect... more amazing than I've ever imagined being with you feels..."

Mikleo's eyes held a hint of a smile. "That's just about the third or fourth time time you've said that,  _Your Hindness_..."

"You like it?"

Silence.

Sorey gave Mikleo a slow, breathless kiss on his cheek, down to his chin, stopping shy of the bottom line of his lower lip. It was exciting and unnerving, if Mikleo could be honest about it.

It also made his toes curl and his stomach flip.

"C'mon, say it. Just once is enough, and I promise I won't ask again. Mikleo?"

Helplessly, Mikleo crooned a shy 'yes' that made him seem so fragile and tiny in Sorey's arms. Without knowing why, Sorey felt an overwhelming urge to wrap Mikleo's legs around his waist again, to press kisses on that beautiful neck while waiting for his need to be completely spent inside of him.

This time, he really had to toss those lustful thoughts aside. Mikleo was tired. He needed rest. And sleep. And something more romantic... without the sinful heat that comes with it.

He smiled, spreading kisses on Mikleo's hair and the smooth forehead beneath, which was still a little moist with sweat. One look into Mikleo’s eyes as he languidly met his gaze and Sorey knew right away that more than just satisfying that _other_ need, he wanted to calm the uncertainty in those lavender eyes… to reassure them with words and kisses that what had just happened between them was more than just an expression of lust… that amidst the pleasure and the pain was a genuine feeling of never wanting to be apart ever again.

As he felt Mikleo tremble and shiver beneath his need, beneath the caresses he languished on the blushing quivers on his creamy, smooth skin, Sorey finally relinquished himself, pulling out with a breathless moan as their thighs finally untangled, and there was no other sound but their heartbeats to affirm their mutual feelings for each other.

When both of them finally sank back onto the covers, Sorey was content to lie on his side facing Mikleo so he could quietly stare at him and fondle his cheeks, and breathe in his lingering scent even when all he got in return was a tired, irate complaint, “It hurt so much Sorey, I hate you, I swear we’ll _never_ do this again.” He brushed Mikleo’s sleepy eyes with trembling lips, knowing sorry won’t ever be enough to quell the pain, although he hoped that in time he’d be able to control his masculine impulses more, be less rough and selfishly demanding.

After all, he wanted nothing more than to give Mikleo the same experience of pleasure, the same heightened excitement that washes over everything, that makes one feel so awake and alive. If he could erase even a few moments of pain with those waves of pure joy, if he could staunch those bad memories of abuse and suffering—the things Mikleo put up with in that past-that-should-never-be-repeated—with kisses and more, he would never tire of doing those things for him for the rest of their lives.

He would be content and satisfied with the thought that somehow he was able to do something for him no one else had ever been able to do, something which Mikleo might find special and truly wonderful about sharing this pure bliss with him…

As Sorey began to think more about it, he pressed Mikleo closer, letting his left arm linger on the small of Mikleo’s back with protective gentleness, even as he drew Mikleo’s head toward his chest. He wanted him to hear his heartbeat, so he could confirm to him what he truly felt—body, mind, and soul. And when Mikleo’s hushed complaints finally dwindled into slurred, breathless sounds that made him realize how close he really was to sleep, he nuzzled his face against Mikleo’s hair and whispered goodnight, making sure he heard him say “I love you” before letting him finally doze off, cuddled softly against him.

For Sorey, though, everything seemed just like a dream, as if he has just been swept to some alternative universe from which he might as well be rudely pulled back from any minute. It was _too_ new, too exciting, so amazingly real that there was no way he could sleep all those feelings away. In the peak of the moment, what he said to Mikleo was true: he loved him… and he would never tire of reminding him of it. He _loves_ _only_ _him_ … and there is absolutely nothing in the world that is so good or bad that can make him forget or wish things were different…

Even if Gramps and Lailah predicted nothing less horrible than the end of the world, a final battle to purify the corruption that reeks in every known corner of the world and beyond… even if that purification _can_ and _will_ trigger the rebirth of all things, rip all the known realms asunder, and sink everything into the womb of nothingness to restore the harmony and balance that the universe has lost…

Even if this _Final Apocalypse_ should be the end of everything that exists, the final breath from this body that has just started to feel alive, Sorey swore to himself that he would never give up Mikleo… not after they’ve shared the most intimate moments together… these moments that would take more than every hell all these future battles can give to make him forget.

All the higher beings out there can rave and rant as much as they like. For now, being with Mikleo, having him within reach is more than heaven’s gift. _This_ is real… as real as anything can ever be. And what is real has more truth than any scary omen out there, any doomsday prophecy or impending disaster that may shake the foundations of the universe.

What is real is something that belongs to this moment—the feelings that linger, the need that will always be felt. What is real is not just a phase of raging hormones or a physical connection; it’s something that moves the soul, something deeper and more intimate in every way. It’s something pure and untainted, a bond that stays after the calming of the desire, after every madness and hunger has been quenched by love’s lust. Now Sorey understands why those medieval romances in Gramps’s archives preferred the words _making love_ to describe what lovers do even when the act has nothing to do with their bodies—even when it was just having a conversation or exchanging smiles from a distance. At first, it seemed shocking to assume that talking and doing things in bed could ever mean the same thing, but the more he thought about it, the more he understood that there really _must_ be something similar...

Something that makes love truly beautiful and wonderful and perfect in every way no matter the expression…

Because no matter how notoriously elusive and cliché love is, making love must mean sharing moments with someone who makes you feel aware of being in the world, one who makes you feel you exist. Even if from your own point of view you’re nothing but a bundle of flaws and imperfections, the experience becomes no less moving or satisfying because you are what you become in your beloved’s gaze: the way he sees you, touches you, and returns your kisses, the way he shares all of him to give you as much pleasure and contentment no words will ever be enough to convey.

And if he were to follow that standard, this wasn’t the first time he and Mikleo were intimate. And certainly being intimate was not something he planned on doing with Mikleo only in bed. Whatever little things they’ve already done together, whether it was just talking or laughing together, or touching each other with fond caresses, whatever expression their feelings took on during those moments, it was _not_ and _never_ just physical. It was fueled by attraction, yes, because Mikleo was exceptionally beautiful… but it was more than being in the physical moment. It was intimate most of all… because his feelings for him are grounded in common memories and experiences, things which may not have been completely happy or pure and perfect but, definitely...

Things which changed him, made him stronger, made him want to be a better person.

And even if those things leave permanent scars that also bleed and burn, they become part of the beauty that makes the memories and experiences with that person stand out, different and more precious than anything that he can ever share with anyone else.

It was just like the way he and Mikleo had known each other eight years ago. During that time, he had already felt the power of that rare inner strength, that tiny, yet pure and crystal-clear spark that illuminated Mikleo’s soul, that made his other qualities shine all the more brightly. It was the calming presence of that light that lighted up those dark, painful days that they were trapped in what he thought was a hopeless abyss, that basement in the cabin they had stumbled upon while trying to escape their kidnappers… that dingy well of shadows that they both thought would be their eventual grave.

It was ironic that as soon as the real danger was over when they were rescued after three days, he painfully realized how much he missed that reassuring light, how he felt more lost not having that presence around him, the one person he _had_ felt, and _could_ ever feel safe with, even with the worst deprivation, the worst pains, and the worst of all fears… like the fear of dying in the middle of a dark and distant nowhere that not even demons can reach. And with it came the obvious realization that if he could feel safe with Mikleo, could smile with Mikleo despite all the worst things that made him weak and lonely and afraid, there is nothing in the world or in the future that can shake his confidence and resolve.

Everything should be fine, Sorey thought, for as long as he and Mikleo can gaze outward alongside each other, even into a future with only the bleakest of possibilities.  

He can’t help smiling as he thinks about it. It’s a strange feeling, actually, the feeling of finding that one person who mirrors your soul, who makes you want to be stronger, braver, better than you really are on your own, the one who completes your destiny… It’s almost like reading a book for the first time and knowing right away that it is everything you’ve always wanted to believe, everything you’ve been hoping to see and feel, and say and do. You see yourself in it and realize that it is the same world you’ve always drawn and painted in your secret imagination, the kind of fantasy you’d gladly live for and die for if it were real, if it were possible…

With Mikleo it was just like that. He was a world that pulled and sucked him in completely with one look, with that one deep, quiet gaze that told him he was the missing sky that held all his stars together. With one smile that reached out into his emptiness, Mikleo became for him that celestial compass that guides even the loneliest ships through the darkest of nights... a star he could gaze up to and follow, no matter where its light takes him…

Like a home in his heart where all roads lead to in the end. So no matter the distance, no matter how far or how deep he has fallen or how many battles he has fought and lost along the way, Sorey knows he’ll have a way to find the road back to his heart… because Mikleo will point the way.  

Sorey catches himself overthinking those feelings again. But since the angel is quietly asleep, breathing softly in his arms, well, what else can he do but confront these feelings any teenager would cringe to admit…

He kissed Mikleo’s lips softly, careful not to disturb. When he thought about Mikleo’s inner strength, it wasn’t like he thought of Mikleo as being fearless. On the contrary, he knew Mikleo to be afraid of many little things. But back then, when both of them _secretly_ thought there was very little chance of rescue for either of them ( _secretly_ because Sorey expected the worst without saying it, just as Mikleo desperately pretended not to be concerned even when he was), Mikleo was the one who supported him, who was able to suppress all those selfish, childish thoughts that demanded immediate relief and attention just so neither of them would feel too scared or lonely or needy as what other kids their age might normally feel in such a crisis.

Remembering those things now, the things Mikleo did to keep their sanity from crumbling, brings a smile to his lips: the way Mikleo entertained him with mind twisters and puzzling stories that had the weirdest, most absurd plot twists; those silly questions that he insisted Sorey answer even though they seem too hypothetically queer to have any straight answers or even right ones; the silly games he came up with that forced both of them to be honest about the most embarrassing and awkward things about themselves (which was how he found out most things about Mikleo… that he likes coffee with mint and fruit because those flavors give coffee the same taste when he drinks one after he's just brushed his teeth—sort of really strange though, rather than embarrassing).

Despite the smirks and the arrogant, bantering tone Mikleo used on him the entire time, it wasn’t lost on him how Mikleo did that to push away every bit of loneliness he could, to keep their attention away from those things that could break their spirit—everyday things like hunger and thirst, the dead smell of rodents, the biting darkness and bitter cold of the basement where they could hardly do much but lay still and huddle against each other. It didn’t even matter to Mikleo that he himself was hurting… it didn’t matter that he himself was afraid and lonely and had his own inner demons to wrestle with.

Sorey knew of course that whenever Mikleo thought he was asleep or past hearing, he would cry with stifled sobbing noises while hugging his body to him and all its hurts and hidden wounds. He would cry himself to sleep like that, with Sorey secretly waiting for him to _really_ be asleep so he could put his arms around Mikleo to take away what pain he could because it was the only way he knew how to do things… the only way he could make up for what he did, dragging Mikleo into a mess that was all his fault…

So when he woke up in hospital a few days after their rescue and found out from Gramps and Lailah that Mrs. Rulay decided to take Mikleo abroad for his own recovery, to make it easier for him not to remember what they had been through, he felt torn between missing Mikleo and hating him. He understood, of course, that the decision only had the best of intentions for everyone because Mikleo needed to move past those broken memories, those dark, unforgivable things that have been done to him by that nameless, filthy bastard who dared touch him that way, which up until now, he wasn’t sure if Mikleo had ever let anybody else know about.

But still, the loneliness that Mikleo made him feel when he left was almost just as unbearable. How could he just up and leave—disappear without even saying goodbye—after they had promised to each other that they would surely meet again and become best friends for real? Then again, the distance must have been the proof he needed to establish how irreplaceable Mikeo was. For wasn't the separation exactly what made his feelings develop beyond infatuation and physical attraction, the same reason he was able to nurture deeper feelings based on something more meaningful?

Sorey couldn’t help grinning at the lovesick sound of that. True, it was easier to be blinded by beauty, by those angelic features that would always be carved in his most secret fantasies. But Mikleo is beyond that. Mikleo is someone who has experienced the worst dangers and the worst hurts with him, someone who has endured far more demons than him but who never let that get in the way of being his friend during his darkest moments. Mikleo’s kindness was not the kind that wants or needs any spotlight; in fact, it was never too gentle or careful or obviously caring. But it was always there, it was always _felt_.

Everything he and Mikleo had been through in those three days of hell touched him so deeply, so irrevocably that nothing—Sorey is certain of it—nothing can ever compete with those memories and the emotions they stirred in him for the first time.

Carefully, he let an index finger fondle those strands of silvery hair splayed on his shoulder. Seeing Mikleo so peaceful, so beautiful and perfect sleeping in his arms like an angel untouched by any hurt or evil, unmarred by any pain how can anyone expect him to give Mikleo less than he deserved? How can he keep himself from not wanting something so godawfully pure and innocent and beautiful in the most intimate ways?

Like a wave that knows which shore it belongs to no matter how wide the ocean is, or how violent its storms, he knows there is only one shore he would always come home to…

Mikleo is his shore, and he will come to him and _only_ him.

 _C-come to him?_   Sorey blushed at that, even though he didn’t even say it out loud. True, he felt he owned Mikleo now, had every right to claim him, to be one with him in every way just like this… but only because that privilege means everything to him… because it means that Mikleo is someone he can rightfully defend and protect as his own from now on. No longer does he have to think twice about the danger, about the logic behind the forces that chase them from the shadows. He has more than enough strength and confidence to face all of them in battle, knowing it won’t be in the name of something vague or unrealistic, like world peace or things like that…

He can only be honest. While there’s something fascinating about fighting superhero battles that require a pure and unwavering dedication to the supreme well-being of the universe, he can’t be _that_ heroic. He can’t deny himself those same things he wants to protect in others… things like love, happiness, a home where one can be at peace… And that is why he _can’t_ and _will never_ give up his personal desires for the honor of becoming the redeemer of the world.

No, Sorey Sheppard is definitely different from that _other_ guy. His soul can’t be swayed by a pure and unconditional love, by that burning compassion that only yearns to save the world… which only longs to protect humanity even at the cost of one’s own happiness, of everything else that matters.

If there is any reason for saving the world, it will have to be that he wants Mikleo to be safe, to be protected because he’s part of all the good that remains, all the good that’s worth defending against whatever odds—hellions, demons, and other nameless shadows of darkness and despair—that want to take all of that away.

He can’t help but be a little afraid, of course. But if the world has to be reborn from its own ashes, from the final clash with these malevolent creatures from that _Otherworld_ , then so be it. After all, acceptance doesn’t mean turning his back on those life-and-death battles that needed to be fought. Rather, fighting all those impossible foes starts with defending his own truth, defending his and Mikleo’s right of existence.

Nuzzled against his arm beneath white sheets pulled to his chin, Mikleo moans and turns to his side. Sorey finds himself smiling. The slightest movement and sound from Mikleo is enough to interrupt his thoughts. Without wanting to disturb, he pulls him back ever so gently, letting his fingers rest on those pale, smooth cheeks to calm those persistent phantoms that must haunt Mikleo even in sleep. And just like this, he wants Mikleo to feel safe… even in those dreams and nightmares he wants Mikleo to know he’ll always be there for him, to sleep with and wake up to every single day… to meet the beginning of every beginning of their lives together once they've gained the independence to make decisions on their own…

And that is exactly how he intends to fight for Mikleo in this odd battle against all odds. It doesn’t even matter if it’s the face of God or the Devil who’ll meet him in this battle. All he needs to believe is that he and Mikleo have a bond no one can ever compete with, not even this war to end all worlds. There’s simply no higher goal or wisdom out there to decide the purpose of the life they’ve been given, no scale to weigh their souls against the burden of the world’s sins and its calamities. For no one, no matter how powerful or superior, has any right to tell them what their souls are destined for, what truths they are meant to fulfill.

Sorey promised himself he would never let fate ever tear them apart. Despite the things he's been told, he refuses to believe that someone can or should decide the worth of any single human life even if life and death seem random and pointless… even if human life seems so fragile, so meaningless like some withered leaf blown away by the first gust of wind, to be lost in the sea of many others until nothing, not even the shadow of what it once was remains.

And who’d be naïve enough to deny it? Compared with the immortality of the gods, human life is just a snowflake, a passing beauty that melts and disappears without a trace… but still…

Sorey pushes away a strand that has strayed onto Mikleo’s cheek, careful not to wake him up with the lightest of touches. Not satisfied with that tiny spark of warmth that grazed his skin, he pats Mikleo’s cheek with a soft kiss, wondering how he can get over sleeping without him on this same bed every night as soon as they go back to their normal lives. He lets his index finger caress that skin just above Mikleo’s wrist bone... and felt his own breathing hitch.

His heart is racing and yet, to be honest, he has never felt more certain of anything in his life.

 _Human life is just a snowflake..._ But if he could keep that snowflake on the palm of his hand even for just a second longer, protect it from the desperate heat that might kill its spirit forever, if he himself were the universe, it would be worth throwing away all the tomorrows and eternities of his godly life just for that moment…

_If that moment is all I have with Mikleo._

Mikleo stirs again, but this time he rubs his sleepy, child-like eyes with balled fists, as if to force them to wake up. Sorey couldn’t help laughing as waves of pure, irrepressible contentment surged through him. Following an impulse, he leaned forward and kissed Mikleo’s swollen lips.

“Good morning. Did that finally wake you up?”

Mikleo mumbled something… about Sorey being so mushy so early in the day, which only made Sorey giggle helplessly. Mikleo stared at him hard, like a spoiled little girl who hated being made fun of.

“All right, I’ll stop, sheesh it’s your fault for being so cute like that!”

“Sorey, I swear, you’re gonna give me goosebump cancer with your shameless cheesiness… so please, just cut it out, all right!”

Sorey only laughed harder to Mikleo’s baffled displeasure. Irritated, he swung his legs out of bed and stood up only to feel a strange pulsating ache inside him—between his legs that made him grab at the nearest bedpost. Sorey stood up and held him by the waist, one hand pressing on the hand that still held on the bedpost to which Mikleo was clinging for dear life. And by the pressure of that grip, Mikleo knew there was no need to look up and into those quiet, green eyes to see how worried and concerned Sorey was.

“Mikleo, you shouldn’t have tried to get up if… I know it must hurt… gods… I should’ve been more—”

Without having to think about it, Mikleo let one finger shush Sorey before he could finish that sentence. Although his lips twitched nervously at the unfamiliar tearing, swelling pain that burned through his core, the last thing he wanted was to show signs of it. True, Sorey’s over-protectiveness was making his knees weak at the moment, but he didn’t want to look weak in front of Sorey. Never. He didn’t want Sorey to keep blaming himself for every little thing that goes wrong because nothing in his life that went wrong or got broken beyond fixing could be Sorey’s fault. Even this…

After all he was the one who asked for this, he was the one who wanted this to happen. Just like before, he had always contradicted his own words. When he told Sorey he didn’t want anything intimate with him—not for the next ten years—he was kidding no one but himself…

Mikleo couldn’t help but blush even when he hated doing that while Sorey’s eyes were all over him. But there’s no way he can deny it and be convincing at the same time: he has always been attracted to Sorey, maybe for the longest time ever since they met. Forgetting him for eight years didn’t mean his body had forgotten those feelings as well... In fact, from how his body is reacting to Sorey’s nearness right now, there’s no reason to be surprised that he allowed all these things to happen so soon between them, as if all this time, his body knew what it wanted and needed… embarrassing things only one person could give it without holding himself back just the same…

Mikleo mentally flinched at that unexpected insight. Even if it sounded so impossible, too romantic to be logical at all, some feelings must be stronger than forgetting, more stubborn than any memory. Some feelings seem to bind souls more tenaciously, in ways that surpass the limits of one’s body, one’s mind…

Mikleo took a moment to think about it. Maybe that’s the true power of will and resolve, or is it the quiet, yet sinister power of the human heart?

But _sinister_ meant that such feelings _are_ and _can_ be frightening…

Mikleo couldn’t help thinking about it more even if he didn’t want to think about it. But meeting Sorey’s emerald eyes, an incredible wave of fear seems to come at him, ready to swallow him whole, and he finds himself asking so many _what-ifs: w_ hat if something _really bad_ happens to him, what if, because of it, he falls into a coma that takes years, decades? Will he ever find his way back to Sorey again just like this? Will his body remember the feel of his slightest touch, will his mind flutter in the exact same way at the slightest whiff of his scent? Will his heart know the sound of his heartbeat as it does now?

But as those questions flood him with even more worries and concerns that have no answers for comfort, Sorey pulls his hand away from the bedpost to rest it on his chest. Mikleo couldn’t help giving him a quizzical stare.

“If you need to go to the bathroom, I’ll carry you. Maybe you can take off this top right here so I can put you straight into the bathtub… uh, I mean… I don’t mind helping you shower or bathe if you let me…”

Mikleo huffed, trying to keep his voice from quivering even as Sorey’s overwhelming warmth seeped through his hand. “Right. I was thinking you’d be thinking along those lines.”

“C’mon,” Sorey’s worried look eased into a chuckle that looked teasing in every way, as his nose started to nuzzle Mikleo’s nape. “It’s not like we can do this every day, I mean, I wish we could but as it is, I’ve already done worse things your mom might kill me for…”

“I don’t think you sound guilty enough.”

Mikleo felt Sorey’s lips quiver. “Right or wrong, it’s not like I regret anything. Do you?”

Mikleo had to think about it, but really he was just delaying his answer. He knew as much as Sorey did that there was nothing to regret. Happiness sort of works that way, Mikleo thought quickly.

Sorey looked panicked. “Hey, Mikleo, are you thinking we shouldn’t have—”

“What I think and feel can be two different things at once,” he interrupted quickly, unsure as to why he’s hesitating when the truth seems too obvious for words. Or maybe Sorey is the type of person who wants to hear it loud and clear? Mikleo felt his heart skip at that. What does Sorey want to hear from him that he hasn’t expressed so clearly and explicitly just last night? That gave him more reasons to sigh and mentally wince, even as his neck began to grow hotter with the feel of Sorey’s breath on his skin.

His heart was thumping wildly even as words seemed to stay stuck in his throat.

Sorey takes a closer peek at him, green eyes panicked. “H-hey, Mikleo, are—are you mad?”

He winces visibly at that. “Sheesh, stop worrying, will you? I’m okay and I know I’ll be okay from here on…” He can’t look up and into those emerald eyes though, as if the secret truth he had been keeping, this happiness that was giving him too much to be excited about, too much to be hopeful for, might give him away and make Sorey… _make Sorey what?_ Was he afraid of Sorey taking him for granted, losing interest in him too quickly?

“But…” Sorey suddenly pulls him into a tight hug. “I want you to be more than okay. Aren’t you happy I’m here? I’m finally back Mikleo… And I missed you so much and you can’t even guess how much. Even if I can see you every day in school like always, the feeling that I can do this, that I can talk to you and hold you—touch you like nobody else can—is so different… It’s nothing like I’ve ever felt before in my life.”

Mikleo felt Sorey’s arm moving down his waist, then his knees…

“Look, I’m sure I can walk fine, I’m not gonna—h-hey, Sorey, put me down you’ll dr-drop me, sheesh, if you do I’m gonna kill you!”

Sorey laughed. Even back then when they had first met, he had already known Mikleo to be easily afraid of certain things—things like dark, tight places and empty heights. So he wasn’t surprised when Mikleo squirmed when he lifted him up to his arms even if carrying him like that wasn’t supposed to be scary.

Of course knowing that about Mikleo doesn’t make Mikleo weaker or less amazing, not when it gives him the perfect excuse to be needed, to be wanted, to be useful to him even in little ways like this…

And for a lot of other reasons, he really just wanted to carry Mikleo like this… because if he can get luckier in the future or the next life maybe, Mikleo is the only person he’s willing to have and to hold, to marry and spend his whole life with—and that includes all his tomorrows and eternities, no matter how doomed they are.

Sorey has two seconds to wonder at that subconscious habit of his that he has never been aware of before. When he thought of the word ‘marry’ he actually had a mental image of Mikleo as a bride— _his_ bride, _his_ woman—not that he confuses him with the opposite sex, of course. It were as if a part of him had recognized long before he found out about Nimue, that sort-of-goddess that had chosen Mikleo as her Vessel, that Mikleo had always had that feminine side to him. Thinking about it now, Sorey reached a new understanding that made him almost proud of himself. He just realized that being attracted to a person must take a lot more than being fixated on a single identity whatever it is based on.  

For love to be perfect, it must be like that isn’t it? It must be capable of surpassing all known limits and boundaries, of moving beyond condemnation and prejudice. Shakespeare would definitely agree with him; after all, those cheesy, romantic ideas were all over his sonnets: “ _Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments. Love is not love when it alters when it alteration finds or bends with the remover to remove…”_ Even the poet himself thought of love as a mental rather than a physical connection… an understanding between two people that blossoms into something deeper... a permanent, intimate bond that can never be broken.

And being a mutual agreement between like minds, love would always be stubborn, would answer to no one but itself. It’s that one thing that can probably stand against history by not only passing the test of time but the test of human understanding and temporary truths in order to find a truth that breathes its own logic, its own rules that are not always made for others to understand.

Just like death, love must have a will of its own that makes it untouchable, like an immutable force that follows only its own conditions of power. And that is why unloving is always a losing battle. There’s no way anyone can bend his own heart and mind against itself, against what it wants, what it truly desires, what it craves for… and what it lives for…

Sorey feels his heart skipping several beats as he realizes yet one more thing: true love is something that can never be undone. Just like gravity, like the orbit of every moon and every star, it stays. It endures like the infinite space that shapes the universe.

“S-Sorey!” Mikleo had tweaked his hair to get his attention. “You don’t propose to take a bath carrying me like this, do you?”

That just gave him an idea. “Why not? Sounds good to me.”

He checked the settings and turned on the shower just like that, giggling as Mikleo kicked like a mermaid who can’t spread her two legs apart with Sorey pressing his body tightly to him.

“S-Sorey!!!” Mikleo spluttered, getting a little water in his mouth as he grabbed at the collar of Sorey’s pajama top.

They were both wet… dripping wet in their bedclothes and all. Thankfully, the water was the perfect temperature—just warm enough to keep them comfortably drenched. Still, the idea was just too wild for Mikleo’s taste.

But Mikleo couldn’t dwell on his anger for very long as wet lips met his, with the sound of giggling in between breaths. Sorey pressed his forehead on Mikleo, letting the water run along his nape and curve around it like a tiny waterfall. With their faces touching like that, it was all right to talk more because the water wouldn’t have to get in the way.

“Mikleo… I don’t want to be away from you even for a minute. Just the thought that your mom’s going to pick you up soon and take you away scares me… It makes me wish so hard we’re much older… so we can decide for ourselves to do things like this anytime we want to… together… just about anything… for as long as it’s with you, I’m sure it will be like this… just special and unforgettable in every way…”

Mikleo felt warm to the tips of his toes and every strand and tangle of his hair when Sorey said that. Those are the exact same feelings pushing inside of him right now but which he’d be so damn afraid to admit. Hearing it from Sorey, letting him say it so easily, so matter-of-factly puts him at ease, makes him want to stay like this with him just as much…

Because now he’s certain they are of one mind, one body, one heart and soul…

And as Sorey eased him into the bathtub and casually helped him bathe (with Mikleo slapping his hand half the time that it strayed too far from where it should be) only one thought lingered in his mind, like a litany declaring the same truth over and over…

Sorey is just perfect. And however broken Mikleo was in the past, however flawed he was and still is, didn’t matter. Sorey chose him. Whatever god-awful reasons he had for choosing him seemed no longer important. The fact is that Sorey wants him, loves him, belongs to him now… and only him and nobody else.

Maybe just this once he can gloat over it… even if only in the battered silences of his tired pride, maybe he can tell himself a million times over that he has won something unbelievably good, something worth every pain and hurt in the past.

And his name is Sorey.

“Err, Mikleo, do you mind if I ask you… something?”

“Huh?” Mikleo couldn’t help but blush, caught in the middle of that shameless, mental victory speech. “Why don’t you just go ahead and ask?”

“Uh, but—but promise you won’t laugh or tease me forever about it, okay?”

Sorey really sounded goofy right now and Mikleo had to do his damnest best not to make his lips twitch even the slightest because just about now he felt like smirking—just a little, at least. “Yeah, whatever, I swear I won’t.”

“Uh, do you think…” Sorey was really blushing beyond mercy and Mikleo had to purse his lips to keep himself from giggling “… do you think it’s true that… the more you hide your feelings for someone the harder you fall for that person?”

Mikleo thought about it seriously, though secretly, he thought it sounded like the kind of cheesy question people get asked about in those random, pop-up, romantic surveys in the Internet. He wasn’t planning on spoiling Sorey’s serious, I’m-about-to-have-an-epiphany sort of expression, though, so he decided to keep that observation in check.

Mikleo looks up at the ceiling. “Honestly, only the person who’s been hiding his feelings for an awfully long time would know the perfect answer to that.”

“S-Seriously?”

Mikleo sighed loudly. “C’mon Sorey, even kids _must_ know that!”

“I must be a kid then…”

Mikleo frowned. “What are you saying?”

“Because I know the answer is a yes, Mikleo!” Sorey grins childishly, making Mikleo shake his head with a groan that seems to say _what’s-so-great-about-that?_ Sorey seems to be completely oblivious of his mildly supercilious, sardonic expression though, as he dips his hand playfully into the water in the tub and draws circles with the bubbles as if he needed that distraction in order to think.

Mikleo can’t help but stare, with Sorey kneeling down the floor next to the bathtub like that, like a knight in shining armor waiting for some secret, divine revelation somewhere—if not for the wet, soaking bedclothes, of course.

Sorey’s mind is quite a mystery, if Mikleo can be perfectly honest about it. Right now, Sorey’s index finger is making a curve toward his chest, and just as Mikleo was about to catch it, he stops and lifts his finger up, toward Mikleo’s chin, cradling it ever so lightly, making sure those lavender eyes are looking straight at him.

“I’ve just been thinking… all this time, all those years you’ve been gone, I..." Sorey brushes his lips against Mikleo’s chin, suddenly lost for words. After everything they did, everything they've shared, some part of him still felt shy to admit, still felt afraid to confess...

 _So love feels like this, doesn't it?_ He sighs slowly and Mikleo suddenly looks concerned, almost just as nervous.

He rubs Mikleo's lower lip gently with his thumb, imagining the first time he impulsively did just that. “I guess you think I'm crazy... doing things that I just did... and believe me, I've never felt like doing those things before, never with anyone else. I'm just... I mean... it's just you that I want... and with you I... it's so hard to hold back and pretend that I don't want you like I do... and now that you’ve finally let me do all these things, it just… feels… so good… and I love you so much and... "

Sorey was struggling, lips trembling with so much emotion he could not suppress. He has never been so self-conscious before, so awkward and yet...

He looks at Mikleo with a quiet gaze, knowing things would never be the same between them after this. But that risk was his to make.

Mikleo peered into his face, trying to fight off the urge to be evasive. He knows words don't come easy in situations like these, and so there's no reason for Sorey to force himself.

"You don't have to settle things right now or promise anything at all... I'm sure I won't hold you to it."

Sorey froze when he heard that. No, that decision is up to him to make. And he has already made _his_ choice, crossed his own personal Rubicon to pay any heed to Mikleo's doubts.

"That's not how it is at all..." Sorey breathed, his expression sinking a few notches even as he searched for words of reassurance and affirmation. This self-defensive strategy of Mikleo's... there's no reason for it. There's no reason for him to think he's not worth anyone's real devotion or commitment. If anything, Mikleo's worth so much more.

"Mikleo," his voice shook, gods, this was making him nervous, as if one wrong word, and he can lose the universe at his fingertips. He felt like a hunter who wanted to chase a beautiful deer only to realize he wanted nothing more than to admire it from a distance, not kill it. But as the prey knows nothing of such feelings, one wrong move and it would slip away, far away beyond reach.

"Sorey-"

"No, don't, please... listen. All I can think of right now is how I want us to stay together from now on. I want to be the only one for you... I mean... if you know what I'm getting at... I want to be your man... yours alone... just as I want you to be mine, my one and only. Sorry for the cheesy part, but I'm too nervous to be poetic right now... so...”

Sorey bends down to press slow kisses on his wet lips. "Mikleo, will you have me? I'm not perfect, not as amazing as you but... there's nothing I won't do to make you happy... I mean... I promise to be good, err, better than good if you'd show me how... I won't complain and even if we fight, I'll always hear you out... I'll always stay by your side even when you feel like pushing everyone away because you don't wanna burden anyone. I mean... I know you feel that way sometimes, maybe everybody does. But there are ways to settle things... like this..." 

Mikleo felt his heart stop when Sorey pulled his wrist to kiss that spot he had claimed before. This confession… it was so unexpected and so un-Sorey Sheppard—the bad-ass, playboy Sorey everybody claims him to be in school and everywhere—making Mikelo's chest wrench with a strange sort of pain and inner joy. As Sorey gazed back quietly, patiently, with those lingering emerald depths of his glistening sadly and sweetly, it felt suddenly strange to him how he couldn’t look away, couldn’t say anything while those words that left Sorey’s lips flitted in and out of his mind. He knew nothing could be more achingly honest and childish and immature-sounding but…

As Sorey leaned forward to cup his chin and give him soapy, wet kisses there too, he heard him whisper into his skin.

"I'll kiss you and make love to you until you're ready to forgive me, whatever there is to forgive. Because your tears, your doubts, your hate, they're all mine too. And I won't let you bear them by yourself... Mikleo... never again, all right?"

_Not while I'm here with you... as long as I live._

Mikleo's eyes widened, his pulse quickening. Such honest, foolish adoration, anyone might say out of common sense. But Mikleo knew that those words would shake the foundations of anyone's being if there are such words spoken as truly and as heartfelt as these. But there was no chance to overthink it, no chance for over-scrutiny as Sorey bent down to take his lips, his mouth in a deep, hungry kiss.

Mikleo could only mumble a quiet "yes" as he let himself melt into the kiss, feeling certain as he had never felt so certain before...

That if ever he could choose those memories that would last him forever, this would be one of those… all that they’ve done last night and this single, precious moment that Sorey is kissing him like this makes him want every single moment... no, every single second... to last a lifetime and more.

 

**o-----)o(-----o**

 

“S-Sunday shopping? I—I don’t feel like going out, really, Rose… In fact, I’m planning to quit the squad… I mean, honestly, I don’t have time to fit cheerleading into my schedule… everything’s just… so hectic… and I guess I just don’t feel up to it.”

“Yeah, and are you planning on crying your heart out for the next million years until you get over Sorey? Cut it out Alisha, you have field practice today and I heard the soccer team’s waiting for your appearance. As always. Are you just gonna let them down because of one stupid heartache?”

“Can’t I? By the way, how did you know about—”

“Sergei, who else? Your one, shining, secret admirer. Don’t tell me that’s news to you?”

“You’re always a teaser.”

“No, I’m a beautiful disaster with a heart of stone who’ll never be a fool for love! C’mon, Alisha, you need to live, and you can’t do that running away from Sorey and his shadow! It’s not like you can run away forever anyway, and besides…”

Rose takes a moment to exhale. “Don’t you think we ought to respect his decision? Who he chooses to like or to love is not something that should get in the way of our lives—and definitely not something he should feel guilty of, if he finds out how miserable we are—or _you_ are—right now because of it.”

Alisha felt like denying that right away but even _that_ seemed pointless. She wanted to say she was fine… she _would_ be fine, but… “Rose, I know you’re right. It’s just that… I need more time… And stop exaggerating! I’m not miserable… I’m just _not_ okay, all right? ”

“Whoa, big difference, sorry I stand corrected. And when are you gonna be all right, Alish? Planning to wait for the next ice age, huh?”

“Like what I said… I just need a little time on my own…”

“All right, I heard you. So does that mean you don’t have time for me either?”

Rose didn’t know how those words slipped out so quickly and easily. The question was something she hadn’t been consciously meaning to ask… quite obviously. And to think she had always prided herself on being so self-aware, so in-touch with her inner spirit—whatever those sublime, _new-age_ things mean.

“H-hey, that’s not what I mean, you know that.”

“So…” Rose scratched her head. Since last night, she’d been meaning to ask Alisha to listen to something she had recorded for fun. She couldn’t help wondering if it wouldn’t be so cheesy to excuse this kind of distraction.

Not like cheesy is illegal. Most definitely, it must be something she had caught from being around Sorey too often when they were kids.

“Uh… by the way, I was wondering if… I mean I recorded a little song last night and…” Rose cringed at her own words. That almost sounds like a stupid prelude to a proposal, but how else can she say it in this kind of mood? Alisha is obviously a little bit sensitive right now, so there’s no way she should be thinking about her own feelings. Definitely, it’s Alisha she should be more worried about.

“Y-you recorded a song? You haven’t done that before…”

Rose blushed, making her scarlet all over, hair and all. “Right, gods, listen to me… the mushy country girl trying to pass off as a balladeer! I think I’m gonna give myself a heart attack right now.”

Alisha found herself getting excited even when she had been so depressed just minutes ago. “Can I listen to it even just once, c’mon, Rose! You know how I love your singing…”

“You do?” Rose teased. “Yeah, right, I remember when we had that play back in second grade, you and Sorey were the only ones who didn’t roll off the floor laughing your guts out at my singing, thanks!”

Alisha couldn’t help but giggle despite herself. “Of course, I remember! Sorey even looked like a perfect knight in his costume, offering you a bouquet on his knees because he seriously thought you were so cute in that play… I mean, he’s always so sensitive to everyone…”

Alisha stopped herself. There was something about what she said that made her want to stop… to stop remembering, to stop thinking of anything that includes _him_ …

“Okay, I think we’ve run out of tickets to our one-way trip to memory lane! But if you _really_ wanna give this song a shot, you’d better get some ear buds ready in case it becomes too much for you. It's not like I've got an angelic voice to begin with.”

“Stop that, no one's complaining! Which artist is it by the way? You love older songs, right?”

“Only because I don’t appreciate modern songs that moan and groan and call that a love song, sheesh! Songs these days… they all sound the same… like you have to hear the word ‘love’ to know what the heck they’re talking about _._ Where did all the romance go?”

“Each to his own, Rose, c’mon!” Alisha found herself laughing a little. Rose has her quirks and isn’t in the least embarrassed to be critical of even the most trivial of things. “So what is it?”

“It’s an old duet… by Bennett and Grant. I heard the guy was an actor… sort of. Kinda good-looking… I even like some of the sappy romance movies he starred in. But heck, let’s not get distracted. It’s called _‘Way Back into Love’_ and seriously, I’m thinking of recording it officially… if you like it of course!”

“Just record it, all right! Though I get the feeling it’s gonna be about me, isn’t it?”

“I’m hopelessly stuck on you so deal with it. Anyway, here it is…”

 

_I’ve been living with a shadow overhead_

_I’ve been sleeping with a cloud above my bed_

_I’ve been lonely for so long_

_Trapped in the past, I just can’t seem to move on…_

_I’ve been hiding all my hopes and dreams away_

_Just in case I ever need them again someday_

_I’ve been setting aside time,_

_To clear a little space in the corners of my mind…_

_All I wanna do is find a way back into love_

_I can’t make it through without a way back into love…_

_There are moments when I don’t know if it’s real_

_Or if anybody feels the way I feel!_

**_I need inspiration_ **

**_**Not jus** t another negotiation…_ **

_All I wanna do is find a way back into love_

_I can’t make it through without a way back into love_

_And if I open my heart to you_

_I’m hoping you’ll show me what to do_

_And if you help me to start again_

_You know that I’ll be there for you in the end…_

 

Alisha was quiet for some time. “Rose…”

“Y-yeah? Was it that bad? Took you five seconds to be sure, huh?”

Alisha shook her head, though it was obvious Rose couldn’t see that. “No, it was really good! It kinda… reminded me of me and you-know-who but… that’s okay. I guess I _am_ kinda like that… I’m just… hopelessly stuck… like I’ve boarded a train going somewhere but I don’t know where to get off…”

“No, you’re not!” Rose was quick to object. “I’m sort of hoping you’d get back on your feet with that same Joan-of-Arc battle cry of yours, you know, _‘In the name of true love, be gone you jerks, you unholy sorrows of Mother Earth! This world is ours for the taking!’_ ”

Alisha laughed a little at that. “I don’t think anyone in history ever said those things, seriously! Still, if I’d be honest with myself… I mean… I do feel trapped… and I don’t know how long I’d be stuck in this kind of black hole. I feel like I really need some time Rose… to find myself somehow…”

It was Rose’s turn to be quiet. “No one’s rushing you anyway, princess. Just wanna let you know you have my shoulder all the time.”

Hearing that almost made Alisha want to really cry, as if those words just granted her permission to do what she herself finds unthinkable— unbelievably stupid to say the least. “I think I miss that shoulder right now… but maybe I should try getting over this mess on my own for once. I mean, it’s unfair to expect everyone around me to sympathize… it’s not healthy, I know, and I hate to be emotionally dependent on anyone, even you, Rose. Besides, I’m sure I’ll be all right in time, you’ll see…”

“Yeah, fine, gocha!”

“R-Rose?” Somehow that unexpected cheer, that overflowing optimism just about made Alisha think twice about what she said.

“I perfectly understand, Alish. That’s why I’ll be there in ten minutes. Make sure you’re ready. Bye!”

“R-Rose, hey!”

Rose had ended the call just like that. Alisha threw her cellphone on the side of the bed and thought about Rose’s strange mood. It was obvious how Rose was doing her damnest best to cheer her up until… Alisha blushed, shaking her head. It was wrong of her to think there was something more to it. Going back to that song, which strangely pasted itself onto her memory somewhat quickly, she wondered if she hadn’t been too presumptuous to think that the song was really just about her and Sorey’s relationship. The song didn’t even sound sad, but rather warm and promising and almost prophetic.

 _Way back into love, huh?_ She can’t help but think about that line, about the possibility of opening herself up to someone else, someone whose heart has also been broken, someone who can share and understand the pain and help her heal… and fall in love again…

Alisha caught herself getting all warm and fluttery as those thoughts lingered in her mind like a mantra that has its own repeat button. Catching sight of her giant, pink bear pillow, Alisha grabbed it without thinking, giving it a suffocating hug with her arms wrapped tightly around its neck. She remembers Sorey giving it as a present for her thirteenth birthday. Since then, the big, stuffed animal has been her one-and-only bed companion, a confidante who had no choice but to listen to all her shameless secrets and frustrations without breathing a single sound to anyone. She almost laughed at how insane that sounds just now. She stretched her arms outward, giving her bear a long, hard stare. It was then that she started to notice how the sides seemed to be showing a lot of wear and tear and more than a few runs actually needed some urgent stitching.

Alisha sighs.

Even her fondest present seems to be telling her that only things that needed fixing _can_ or _should_ be fixed. Of course that almost brings her back to the topic she’s been hopelessly trying to avoid since yesterday. And Rose was so right about it too. It’s not like she can deal with the matter by running away from it, by pretending she will get better in time as if things can happen just like that by needless, effortless waiting. While minutes ago, that kind of frame of mind—the wait-until-you-heal or time-heals-all-wounds sort of approach—might have sounded somewhat calm and confident, now, she could only shake her head at her own stupid logic.

No matter how optimistic you try to be in these kinds of situations, love problems aren’t the same as skin lesions or injuries: they don’t just heal by themselves or disappear if you cover them up. You only get better when someone comes along to fix you and make you feel like new again.

And that just about brings her back to the crux of the matter: does she really need to heal to get past her feelings for Sorey? Or is she simply misunderstanding something so obvious, something she should have known before…

It wasn’t like her relationship with Sorey was ever broken. It was just never there… or maybe what she had wanted was simply different from what had been there all this time. And Sorey had said it himself: if they could be friends again, he would look forward to it every single day.

 _Friends again…_ Is she willing to lose that too just because Sorey didn’t meet her expectations?

Without knowing why, her index finger went up to her lips as if to trace an invisible memory written there, somewhere, in the darkest corners of that fading dream…

Her first kiss _ever_ was with him… when she kissed Sorey, she had put all her heart into it, all the feelings that stirred her soul and made her realize how much and how badly she wanted him, needed him in her life—not knowing she wasn’t the one he had been yearning for, the one that moved his world around its center and kept it in place.

She wasn’t the center that made his universe complete. But maybe, just maybe, she can still be a significant part of his life… but can she? Would she be willing to settle for second place? Or maybe not even that… would she be willing to be just one of those distant stars?

Alisha sighs and rests her chin on the side of the pillow, rolling over it as she finally settles with her back on the bed, her pillow on top of her, hugged tightly to her chest. A lover is _always_ a friend, isn’t he, only a deeper and more intimate one? So friendship is really an ambiguous thing... for a friend may simply be a worthy companion, someone that makes another person’s life brighter… but not in the same way as that significant _other_ who changes him, whom he misses as soon as that person leaves, someone he’s forever content to be with as if they have their own world that’s bright and complete and happy on its own, without anybody or anyone else needing to shed some light.

For true lovers, the whole world revolves around each other’s orbit, and anything else… everything else can always wait.

Because lovers are also true best friends and soulmates. And that is exactly the reason why they complete you... in ways no _other_ friend can. 

Alisha sighs to herself. To think that all of these things for Sorey is Mikleo… that all these feelings will be set aside for him and only him, leaving no room for anyone else.

So she would have to be that distant star that lights his path in moments when he needs the warmth of companionship, nothing more. But would that ever be enough? She hadn’t thought that friendship could be so limiting and constrictive, and yet, so complicated, especially when feelings do not always want to stay within their boundaries. Like water or fire, they have a force of their own that finds its own way through the tiniest cracks, the slightest openings in those emotional walls of defense that protect one from getting hurt, from being too vulnerable.

And just like those two elements, feelings also move fluidly, stealthily, almost always ready to catch one by surprise in his or her most unguarded moments. They always have a way of leaking and spilling over, of breaking down barriers that suppress their existence.

So can she really take up all of that pressure, all of the potential hurt and disappointment that go with resisting these feelings within her? Is she really ready to quietly accept the emotional aftermath of a friendship after rejection?

In her heart, Alisha knows Sorey is right. There are some things you have to endure, some things you have to live with no matter how many hurts it may bring, even if nothing ever works out in the end. Because there are things that are just too precious to lose or let go, like that one important person no one could ever replace…

But does Sorey really mean all that much to her? Is he someone worth all the heartache? In life, there are things that can be broken and fixed… but things that are not what you want them to be… there is _no_ way of fixing those kinds of things… because what it needs is a way of looking that sees past all the illusions of desire and false expectations…

Even now she seems to be desperately looking for an escape, a way out of the terrifying conclusion that makes her feel so defeated even in her own mind. Maybe her and Sorey’s friendship _does_ need fixing. But as for that other thing—this feeling that seems to be eating at her very soul—she would really just have to let it go, for her own survival, for her own peace of mind…

She’s almost certain _that_ is the right answer—the kind of answer Rose expects from her—even if her heart feels too numb right now to be convinced by the logic of her own inner voice.

 

**o-----)o(-----o**

 

Sergei had been watching Sorey for the past two hours practicing his dribbling skills and milkshake tricks (where the player bounces the ball from right foot to right thigh, right shoulder, head, left shoulder, left thigh and left foot over and over without letting the ball hit the ground or the floor). After that, everybody got busy practicing inside-the-box and outside-the-box power shots and knuckleballs and all he could say was that it seemed Sorey had never been out of practice even for a single day, effortlessly outdoing all the other players in the team who had been consistently attending practice meets for the past week.

Without exaggeration—and to think Sorey considers him a stingy manager who hardly gives anyone praise—he thought Sorey was actually better at it than he had seen him in their previous practice drills, setting aside the fact that Sheppard is, in fact, _the_ captain and should be in his best form as expected.

He wondered vaguely if it had something to do with anything personal… after all, he heard from the Coach two days ago that he was able to convince Alisha to let the cheering squad perform for their field practice today. Knowing their Coach, Sergei could guess what was going on in his mind: he must have surmised that having Alisha Diphda’s presence nearby—not to mention all the campus crushes in her squad—would boost the team’s morale and make them practice harder in preparation for the upcoming semi-final matches.

Sergei didn’t think it was a politically-correct assumption, of course, but who was he to dispute the man who had given them three consecutive chances to enter the championship finals (though they haven’t achieved anything higher than second place, making the gold their actual target this year). Besides, it’s not like he’s completely against the idea of seeing Alisha. It’s been a while since they had time to talk or even say ‘hi’ to each other… and to be honest, he’s been looking forward to seeing her for the past two days…

Sergei didn’t mean to blush at that, or to find his throat suddenly drying up as Sorey called out to him in his usual, boyish, cheery voice.

“Hey, Sergei Sir, how’s it going?”

Sorey has this habit of calling him ‘sir’ to tease. No matter how many stomach punches he’d given him, Sorey would always tease, forcing Sergei to relent.

“Well, how are things with you? Heard your Gramps grounded you. Can’t believe you did something _that_ terrible, though. Hopefully it wasn’t something so bad that got Alisha crying—I mean, she does that a lot when it comes to you...”

That was a slip but Sergei couldn’t help it. Back in those days when they were still kids and attended the same school until third grade at least (thanks to their parents who were good friends too), Alisha would come up to him and tell him how the other kids were bullying Sorey. Even if it was just a mild scuffle among boys their age she would worry so much, be so panicked and teary-eyed that Sergei always had to come to the rescue. Though it wasn’t like Sorey needed help, of course, because he wasn’t the type to let himself be bullied anyway. So even then Sergei knew he was doing it more for Alisha than anyone…

What more or less surprised him was the fact that all this time he had nurtured _that_ image of Alisha in his memories as if nothing had ever changed through the years. Or maybe he was the one that didn’t want anything to change at all… except the part that reminds him how Alisha will always want Sorey, will always follow Sorey’s shadow like she always did…

Sorey’s mild chuckle interrupted his thoughts. “Hey, would you punch me like before if she did?”

Sergei found himself inhaling sharply. “Now, that almost means you _did_ make her cry.”

Sorey looks up and sighs, the same way he does when Sergei reminds him of longer practice hours or cajoles him into doing extra practice shots and kicks in front of the newbies. So he wasn’t really quite prepared for what Sorey was about to say next.

“Uh, Sergei, since you and I and Alisha have known each other for so long, and we hardly keep things a secret among the three of us-well, thanks to Rose, that is-I’d be honest… Alisha and I are not—I mean—she’s no longer my fiancée.”

Sergei had to do a double-take. Was Sorey out of his mind or was his own subconscious the one who just said that? It’s not like he _never_ secretly wished for this day to come. He had always prided himself on being a good friend, a perfect friend—if that were possible—but he could never deny the obvious fact that he liked Alisha despite her unwavering feelings for Sorey. Then again…

“It’s all my fault, I know… I guess I've always known it wasn’t going to work out between us from the start. And it’s not like there’s anyone else to blame… I did appreciate Gramps and Alisha’s parents thinking we could be happy together. I guess I just never gave it any serious thought before… I mean, I never thought there was any need to be serious about the engagement with us being too young for that... and with Alisha being so popular, I always knew she could have any other guy she likes… it’s not like I should even hold her back from exploring her options, right? On top of that…”

Sorey rubs the back of his head at Sergei. “When it comes to you, I do hope that’s one less worry to worry about... because I won’t stand being punched by you forever!”

Sergei didn’t feel like laughing, though. Sorey not being attached to Alisha would seem like an answered prayer— _his_ prayer—but how about Alisha’s? Having known her for so long, having seen how she admired Sorey even from a distance, how she praised him and defended him even against common sense, Sergei was downright certain it wasn’t something she would ever wish for…

If Sorey only knew how every little thing he did for Alisha made her happy. Even back then, the presents that came from Sorey for her birthday, for Christmas or whatever other occasion that entailed some gift-giving always lighted up her face in ways nothing else ever did or ever could. No matter what it was, a simple stuff toy, a pillow, a charm or trinket, she cherished all of them in ways he hadn’t seen her do with anybody else’s tokens of affection, sadly including his…

So how could he have missed all those signs? Was Sorey pretending to be oblivious of a girl’s genuine affections? How could he be so blind to the common knowledge, the obvious truth that Alisha’s world has always revolved around him and _only_ him?

Sergei didn’t know what to think. Someone so beautiful and so close to being perfect… how can someone who’s so close to it, who actually moves within the orbit of that perfection like Sorey _not_ see that? How can he just set that aside without the slightest regret or remorse? _Unless…_

Sergei couldn’t, or didn’t want to believe it… Is there really any _other_ girl out there worth breaking her heart for, any star brighter than her nova, any fairer paragon to match or outshine Alisha’s sublime, celestial light?

Sergei admits to being a bad poet and an awkward romantic. But he was never a jerk. At least, not to someone so kind and pure and perfect.

If he were Sorey, he would be the luckiest person in the world to have the attention of a girl like that, someone so pure and sincere and dedicated to a fault. He had always known Sorey to be a bit oblivious, but admitting so casually that his relationship with Alisha was a mistake, giving people the impression he’s too good even for a girl like her, was more than he could take. In fact, it wasn’t something he should take.

Without him being aware of what his own hand was about to do, he had grabbed Sorey by the neck of his practice uniform.

“What the—!”

“Gods, how can you stand doing this to her over and over?”

 _Over and over?_ Sorey was baffled—genuinely muddled even. What exactly was Sergei reacting to, anyway, that could make him lose his cool this much and this quickly? It’s not like he believed _that_ playboy hype about him ever—he knew Sergei never did—and that was _far_ from the real reason he decided to end his engagement with Alisha anyway…

But whatever thoughts the team manager was having at the moment, when Sergei’s fist landed on his cheek, Sorey had a mind not to ask.

 

**o-----)o(-----o**

 

Rose and Alisha had just finished their fruit shakes—it was all Alisha cared to have at the moment—as they rested their tired feet right next to the white and silver shopping bags they managed to collect after doing some shop-hopping along High Street Avenue, which was pretty busy on weekends—Sundays most definitely.

Rose was prettily pleased about the bargains she had made. She loved discounts, and big signs that say _SALE_ had always been a welcome sight to her. Alisha thought she envied Rose’s enthusiasm in that way—her natural cheer that is always infectious and genuine. It doesn’t seem important whatever she’s happy about—she just always seems so bright and positive and brimming with good intentions. Rose is hardly someone you can put down with weaseling, whining, or wise-cracks. She’s complaint-proof, anger-proof and depression-proof—if those words or terms even exist in her vocabulary.

Of course, that didn’t mean she was numb or insensitive or emotionless. They’ve had their fair share of heated debates and stupid, senseless quarrels that all girls probably have with their best friends. But unlike others out there—or so Alisha likes to imagine—she and Rose never can stay angry or upset with each other for more than a minute.

Okay, make that a minute and fifteen seconds on the record.

“Alisha, you’ve been checking your phone every five minutes. What’s up?”

“I just have a bad feeling about something…”

“If your feelings have always been reliable, you should never have let yourself be engaged to you-know-who. Okay, that was mean—but I ain’t gonna take it back, all right?”

Alisha just shook her head. “Look, this is the last time I’d react to anything you say about _him_. It’s all I can do to keep my distance for now, even if I still feel bad—I mean—honestly, I still think Sore—”

“Whoa, speak of the devil, that must be him. Go answer your phone, princess or you’d never know what _the Beast_ is up to.”

Alisha rolls her eyes at Rose as she answers her phone. She was certain it wasn’t Sorey’s number though… but the bad feeling just wouldn’t go away…

The sight of those topaz-green eyes looking shocked and confused told Rose everything.

Sorey was in trouble.

**o-----)o(-----o**

 

Heldalf—or rather, Mr. Heathbran—watched in silence as Lunarre flicked his cellphone shut, half-laughing, half-grinning with that somewhat snappy sort of cackle that was his way of showing that he was amused—very amused with the way things were going.

“These devices come in handy, I almost can’t imagine living without them. Wonder if we can bring them back with us? Though it leaves a lot to the imagination as to how we can _even_ go back with the way things are…”

Heldalf was not in the mood for conversation. If anything, chit-chat seemed like a waste of time—and even though he had lived in this world for as long as Lunarre probably had (they’ve never really felt comfortable enough to discuss their personal lives, much less theories on reawakening and reincarnation, if there was even a significant difference between the two) he couldn’t remember a single moment that he found himself adjusted to the change of scenery and pace. The culture was something that hardly affected or influenced him—though _tolerate_ might be the better word for it—but seriously, even this topic was hardly worth the energy he could give other mundane concerns. More or less humans from this world hardly interested him at all; their habits, practices, and philosophies were hardly something worth the study or analysis he gave similar things in his world and his own past, even if his everyday survival in this _Otherworld_ depended on such things.

To say the least, his object of interest has always been the same throughout the centuries… that one single person he has been wanting to meet again. And he had allowed Lunarre to drag him this far only with the promise that _that_ one objective was finally attainable…    

“So, are you eager for surprises, Lord Held—I mean, Mr. Heathbran? My hellion seems to have done a great job sniffing a good opportunity to make trouble for your one-and-only nemesis… Though I don’t know if you like the idea of seeing one of your Platinum Knights being played with…”

Heldalf grunts wordlessly, swirling the wine in his glass.

Lunarre snickers. “I heard back then how marvelously heroic you were, commanding those knights with dignity unparalleled in Rolance’s history. You were almost legendary, in fact, if you consider that as a compliment. I guess that’s why it seems ironic that _one_ from your order came here as a _soul-of-light incarnate_. Souls of light are not always immune from possession by shadow hellions… the human ones at least. There’s nothing we can do about the seraphim, though. I admit they’re a hundred times _less_ vulnerable to hellions than they were back then… when we’ve fought them before…”

Heldalf frowns, looking away. “Excuse my disinterest but, unlike you, I don’t work with needless assumptions and theories. Besides, where is this hellion you speak of? I do not see any sign of your unholy shadows at work.”

Lunarre sipped his drink with sophisticated fingertips lingering on the shapely glass. They were seated in an elegant café, right beside the large glass wall that allows them a view of the busy shops and sidewalks lined with potted ornamental shrubs and flowering plants. The pastel colors and soft music that lingered distantly helped give the outdoor mall a quaint, placid ambiance resembling that of a remote countryside park, especially with the artistic utility of traditional archways and bridge walks connecting the different shops to each other. Around corners, there were amusing, ornately-shaped, wooden board signs instead of the typical computer and digital ad screens, which identify the locations of typical landmarks and important public utilities (automated tellers, restrooms, and the like). The large maple markings on them seemed to catch Heldalf’s attention as he gazed at one of those signs at the corner right outside the glass wall where he and Lunarre sat across each other, sipping their drinks placed neatly on white napkins, in tall, sweating glasses of sparkling crystal.

Swirling leaves… a crystal as brilliant as sapphire. Having worked as a jeweler before, for one of the largest collectors of rare, artistically-crafted gems, relics, and other antique treasures, Heldalf has always been fascinated with shapes and motifs. It was the reason he decided to take up the same business, having learned so much from being the trusted partner and friend of a multi-billionaire mining investor who simply had a natural, insatiable lust for diamonds and precious stones. On his finger, in fact, was one of the rarest stones that had been mythically presumed, for the longest time, to be cursed—the blue diamond that was believed to have been missing for centuries.

But compared to that rarer, more exotic blue diamond in his collection—a sparkling blue stone set in a thin, gold coronet that he had just taken out of his personal vault where he kept only the rarest and most valuable among his collection of well-crafted gems—this other diamond he wore as a ring held some other interest for him. He personally crafted it to make it look exactly like that token he had given a special young woman he had met and loved in ages past, a young lady who had lived in that place that had become nothing but a memory, a cursed and forsaken part of that world that was rudely taken from him…

The town of Camlann… the last battlefield of his time that continues to spark and burn in his nightmares and daydreams. On that same day the town raged with unquenchable fires, he heard that his lady attempted to seek refuge at a neighboring village. He was told by one of the messengers he had sent—the only one who had the fortune of surviving the bloodbath that followed the fire—that another woman seemed to have been kind enough to help her escape because she was with child…

He didn’t want to remember these things… but memories have a way of being triggered on their own.

Even as he resists the flood of memories inundating his soul with that tiny reminder, he recalls not expecting the news regarding his lady’s sensitive condition. He was almost certain that any other general caught in the middle of a brewing war would simply be too distraught and preoccupied with too many unfortunate events to consider his own personal affairs as worthy of attention. Saying that does not excuse anything, of course, but explanations have a way of putting logic even in the ugliest of truths, making all accidents of fortune and circumstance inevitable, their agents less culpable, less blameworthy.

But the night before the attack, it seemed his lady had tried to send word to him, had wanted to let him know of her plight by giving her ring to one of his knights, a worthy and honorable gentleman who served as his aide, as head of the Royal Heralds and Palace Guards of Rolance, whom he trusted more than anyone with even some of his personal secrets…

Unfortunately his trusted aide had been killed along with the entire cavalry on its way back to Rolance, ambushed and massacred by an army of reinforcements sent by Hyland. The moment he heard of it, he rushed to the scene of battle, taking as many lives as he could with the blood-thirsty blade of his sword _Myrddin_. Eventually the ring was recovered from one of the scavenging thieves his men had picked up not so far from the battlefield, and the knave who was made to confess his sins on the pain of death, pointed to the location of the carnage where he had stumbled upon his precious find.

There he found the letter beneath his aide’s armor, smeared with the color and stench of rust that had every sign of blood drying and caking after it had been allowed to run thickly yet slowly from a deep, gaping wound. Heldalf knew what that must have felt… to be left so badly wounded, to be left to die ever so slowly with the pain wrenching and pulling every sound of breath from one’s battered body… from one’s battered soul…

After offering prayers for the dead, which he doubts ever reaches the gods who could only care less about mortal failings, he turned his attention on the hastily written missive. It was there that he discovered his lady’s escape with their unborn child—a son, as his own lady seemed to suggest. But news about the fire in Camlann gave little hope. Even though it seemed more practical to search through the ruins, the debris and litter of corpses and decapitated parts that filled every inch of Camlann with a gut-wrenching stench, he knew the effort would only turn in even more disastrous results. He felt certain that his lady and child perished beneath the enemy’s blade—if worse things had not, in fact, overtaken them.

For Camlann and the surrounding villages were completely wasted, ravaged and burned to their very borders with no traces of any survivors. Those who managed to flee from the inferno had been pursued relentlessly across ford and field, hanged, stoked, or impaled by lances and stakes. It wasn’t rare to find reverse hanging either—withered corpses with their burned soles and broken ankles caught between the knots that held loosely after crows have fed on the rotting flesh and barely left enough for the bones to hang in place.

Children had not been spared. Stakes pierced through their small bodies anchored them to the slush and mud of abandoned irrigation ducts and canals where their little feet must have gotten caught as they carelessly ran, or became too tired to cross, enabling soldiers to catch up, to use their bodies as moving practice targets since the noise of panic and inexperienced fears is more predictable, easier to read and kill.

Heldalf didn’t want to see it but the memories kept him from looking away. He remembers traversing familiar paths littered with naked bodies of women clothed with flies and maggots… Some of them might have been chased and raped in the middle of the confusion. There had always been more than a few who look to chaos as opportunities for doing more… thieves, rapists, looters, cutthroats, scavengers, petty traders and mercenaries… all the scums in the world find things to lose and gain in such things as war, which no tale or account, no matter how luridly exaggerated, would suffice to describe.

Save for the personal impact of these events on him, there is nothing new or shocking about the atrocities of human conflict. No one is spared by the whims of politics, the savage balance between punishment and retribution, by the thirst quenched with each battle cry, with the conceited spark of the blade that only seeks glory and honor for the flag and the crown. So for a veteran of conflict and cruelty, it should not be so shocking to hear that no mother or newborn child had been spared, had been given succor even if under normal circumstances—that is, in the absence of war—they deserved the proper mercy that a true and noble knight owes his king and a mightier emperor called Justice, which is the higher wisdom, the mightier allegiance to which all humanity truly belongs…

To which his former humanity also belonged… and the reason he had forsaken it as well…

Heldalf knew he had no one to blame—or perhaps it was too late for even _that_. Perhaps he had always known that such were the workings of the unshackled hands of Fate and Justice, those ancient powers that bow to no other master save themselves, that blindly seek the balance and order of all things with neither prejudice nor compassion. Perhaps he had always known that he deserved the pain and the loss, the emptiness that comes after the glory of battle, after the victory of numbers...

And such victories mirror the state of human existence more clearly than anything... that in death, just as in life, the weak bear the heaviest burden. He had seen enough of the tarnished graves for the nameless dead to have to compare it with the marble tombs of kings and war heroes.

Of course, he knew that such things were part and parcel of a warrior’s mortal destiny… a fate whose chains bind him to the scourging fires of hell as he looks up to heaven for forgiveness. After all, what Fate and Justice had taken from him was nothing that can be matched by the number of his own transgressions. They took his child—took one of his—in exchange for the lives of hundreds and thousands he had vanquished with the brute might of his own tainted hands.

Indeed, death is the great equalizer. There is no escaping that fact.

Something seems to quiver on his finger with a strange, pulsating heat. Heldalf stared long and hard at the deep, blue stone, as if in doing so he might read the secrets of the past or be able to reach a world that is now past imagining or contemplation. He couldn’t have anticipated those tragedies that came to him, those things that seemed to be intertwined between will and fate, like a matter that the gods had thrown to the mortals to fear and to hate… because unlike human souls who must live with the reality of death and learn to face it bravely, the gods have no need for courage to face the truths of their own making.

To say the least, the immortal gods have no need for tragedy in order to be sublime… because in their world, there is no death for which true courage is needed.

There was one exception to that, though… the one, single power that must loathe the gods beyond reckoning and conceit. And this relentless power dared to challenge the brute arrogance of immortality by creating the nemesis with which to end it. The most ancient of legends calls it the Heart of the Malevolence but Heldalf knows it has an even more common name… This _being_ , this indestructible enemy that destroys all things is called _Time_. But Time is as blind to its faults as it is to its own truths, to its own illusions which the human mind cannot help but preserve, as if in keeping those images the mind may reassert the permanence that it lacks.

And that is why Time and Memory always co-exist.

The moment his mind said this, Heldalf  felt a tiny spark stir from the depths of the stone on his finger. Although the sensation burns, his skin bristled with a seething cold crawling up his spine. Hot and cold… fire and ice… it must be the same with memories, which are always in the gray, frozen between past and future, nothing in between. Perhaps because the present is a gift from Time, no one but its true goddess, its true creator and bearer may control and manipulate it completely.

And this is why the present dominates everything. It rules over past and future, making it both a mediating and negating power that holds the key to the making and unmaking of history and its delusions. This reason alone makes the Heart of the Malevolence all the more frightening and persuasive… definitely a power to reckon with, an immutable enemy that cannot be defeated by even the gods of the Leviathan and all its seraphic guardians.

The conclusion makes Heldalf smile. If he can push the implications yet one more notch, Time or Nimue is the one true power that holds the key to the making and unmaking of memories, of those same things that allow things to be _what_ they are, to be _how_ they are perceived. Without memories, nothing is or can be. Without memories, everything vanishes, disappears, as if it has never been, or never did come to exist.

Knowing this, thinking of this, however, only makes him grow impatient with every breath as he is reminded of that higher goal he wants to accomplish with his final battle with Shepherd Sorey. If he can touch this forbidden power even once, if he can be allowed to wield Time, the true power of Nimue, he knows what to ask for, what desires with which to sway its terrifying brutality to be unleashed.

He would wish for, nay, command the unmaking of all memories… of history and all the convoluted conspiracies that compose its naked truths.

He would wish for the unmaking of all the tragedies that make the soul.

He would wish for nothingness…

For there is no other signifier that can overcome all the despairs of the human heart save the absence of the heart itself… the absence of feeling. Without emotions to signify, there is no joy or sorrow to contemplate, no yearning to make one suffer.

No love or desire to awaken the awareness of being incomplete and empty.

In the end there shall only be nothing. As it was, and always been, in the beginning…

Nothing begets nothing. And so the universe shall only _be_ but _not_.

And thus, he will prove the great Shepherd to be gravely wrong and misguided. By taking the side of the seraphim, Sorey had shown himself to be nothing but a tool for perpetuating the failures of a broken age as well as the fears of a divided race who take too much pride in their immortal existence. But that existence deserves to be negated. All he needed to do was to overturn the boy’s truths in his face… to show him the pain of having one’s dreams dashed down without mercy.

The same way he has been condemned and forsaken twice over by history and by the heroics of a country fool who persists too much.

Heldalf turns that thought over in his mind as he turned his ring finger to the side of the glass, brushing its angular surface against the sheer crystal. The slightest friction produced a slight, stinging sound, a tiny spark of an echo, a silvery tinkle, like a child’s short-lived laughter. Lunarre watched him curiously, somehow piqued by that unexpected gesture.

Lunarre hums to himself. “Memories… you have so many as your eyes seem to betray.”

“I would rather have them than nothing.”  _At least for now..._  

"Really now?" A sly grin creeps into that painfully wide smile, adding ridicule to sarcasm. “Shepherds must have always been giving you a bad time, haven't they? First there was Michael… then that child who has become an ally to the most powerful of them all, the legendary Shepherd of the Age of Chaos. True, among your adversaries, it was only he, that vanguard of hope and purity, who managed to bring you down on your knees. But as a weak and fragile human, he could not have done it without that stupid child, that seraph who bears Michael's original sin. It was almost as if Michael sacrificed himself so he could crush you in the guise of his own flesh and blood, a seraph literally borne from the ashes of a broken faith. That _other_ pure soul has become one of the reasons for the Shepherd’s victory over you as if to prove that in _all_ things—”

“—there is no flaw so hidden or obscure that cannot be taken advantage of,” Heldalf cuts him off, as he lets an index finger circle the rim of his glass, lingeringly, attentively, as if in doing so he might summon an unholy power there. “Things like truth or justice... behind their infallible reasoning lies contradictions and absurdities that can always be exploited."

Lunarre huffs softly. "Meaning to say?"

"The triumphs of right over wrong, good over evil are nothing but temporary successes. In the end, only those who suffer the agony of defeat truly understands the thirst for life, the hunger to be saved. To those who suffer, power is justice... nothing these so-called heroes and saviors would ever realize for as long as they hide behind their borrowed gods and demons, mistaking prayers for faith as they do poetic lies for truth.”

"And what of your _own_ gods and demons? Do you have no need of their power? Or have you thrown them away"

Heldalf empties his glass and puts it down gracefully, circling the rim with an index finger as he thoughtfully gazed at the reflection of light bouncing off it. "I shall be the judge of my own power, the end of my own suffering. My wrath shall be the Shepherd's undoing... as my darkness shall consume his light and will know no end."      

“Such a beautiful promise...” Lunarre brings his glass to his lips with a grin, smiling through the crystal as he empties it. “So let’s hurry to fulfill it.”

 

 **o-----)o(-----o**  

“Captain!”

The field was a mess. Nobody knew what exactly was going on, how the fight started and who might have the authority to referee, since the Coach had put Sergei in charge of the team for the day.

To make things worse, the team manager is throwing punches against his own second-in-command, no less than the team captain himself. The newbies watched excitedly, like it was a shoot of an action movie starring Sorey Sheppard, no less than a real, larger-than-life celebrity, cast with a no-less attractive hotshot, newcomer Sergei Strelka…

It was an amusing piece for some of the new members. But for the rest of the team it was a nightmare. It wasn’t something that was supposed to happen between the two best, most important members of the team in one of their most crucial practice meets a week before the semis.

One of the players who had a mind to stop the fight but was pushed aside violently told one of the seniors. “No way we’d tell any of the teachers this is happening! I mean, we can’t afford to lose both the captain and the manager at the same time!”

The senior scrunched up his face. Then a wild idea struck him. “How about Rulay?”

Those who heard him nodded helplessly. It doesn’t seem like there’s any other person who might be able to pose as a threat to the two players besides a teacher who can’t be trusted to keep the scuffle a secret from the school. Maybe Rulay can referee or say some scary bullshit to stop the fight. It’s worth a try.

“Hey, does anyone here have Rulay’s number? Can anyone give me Rulay’s number!”

The moment Sorey heard that, he turned even more livid. He threw a desperately angry and hopelessly incensed look on the one who just declared that to the wind, completely ignoring the fact that he has just been nailed onto the grass flat on his back by Sergei, who was practically on top of him landing a punch on his jaw just now. Sorey barely missed it but he still got hit somewhere on the corner of his mouth. The contact left a deep gash that was bleeding from his lower lip as he cried out.

“Dammit, anyone who calls Rulay is going to get it from me, all right!”

Sergei lifted him by the shirt and knocked him hard on the ground. “No time to bother with that, you bastard!”

Sorey couldn’t believe it. He sensed halfway through the fight that Sergei was no longer himself. It wasn’t like he wanted to get kicked and punched but just the slightest suspicion that Sergei was possessed with something like a hellion…

Sorey found himself hesitating between dodging and returning the blows Sergei had been swinging at him with rock-hard, steady fists. It didn’t seem right to even think about hurting his friend even if the solid, straightforward punches the team manager had been throwing at him vibrated with killing intent. Not only would fighting back look _really_ bad on his team mates but… Sergei was—is—one of his oldest childhood friends, someone he had called ‘buddy’ for as long as he could remember. Whatever reasons Sergei had for being in this kind of rage—or for letting a hellion use his rage like this—are not the kind he wanted to rationalize right now in order to justify his own defense. Of course it doesn’t mean letting himself get beaten up, but returning pain for pain is not going to do him or Sergei any good either. He can’t let hellions or demons like this take over his life and ruin his relationships with people. On top of that, he knows feeding the madness, the hate by fighting back will just stir up even more hate and negativity, enough to bait the hellion’s lust for all those feelings they call Malevolence.

Feelings aren’t really evil, Gramps made that clear. It’s what we do with them, what they provoke us to do, the decisions we make, the physical consequences and emotional aftermath of all those actions that create evil. It’s all part of a vicious cycle of cause and effect, of means and ends. Sorey can’t help but wince at those words. Right now, there’s no other way—a less theoretical way—he can put these things in perspective. All his life he never had to think about abstract things like good and evil, about gods and demons… where all of that came from, how it all began, why evil is so pervasive and powerful…

All he ever bothered to think about ever since he was eight years old and probably old enough to think about serious things was how he was going to find Mikleo and what he should do once he does. And now that they’re finally together all these things have to come between them…

That’s what he hates the most—all these prurient emotions of lust, greed, and power, these blood-thirsty hellions trying to throw everything into chaos because that’s just exactly what they are made for. They probably can’t even help themselves in much the same way nature can’t help being what it is. After all, as Gramps had once told him, different levels of self-awareness are needed to breed something as complicated as a contradiction from within. To contradict one’s innate persuasions requires something more penetrating—a pure and powerful will and resolve that’s not so easy to find…

Saying that makes him feel guilty. It almost seems like hellions and humans are no different from each other. They’re simply different forms, different creatures imbued with the same instincts and impulses. Behind the human predisposition to favor lofty goals and ideas is an unwavering attachment to similar desires and hungers… the need to realize a way of existence, a way of being in the world no matter the cost.

But wanting to realize one’s true potential… is that also being selfish and self-centered?

Sorey knows he can’t dwell on these things any further as Sergei lands another solid punch on his shoulder.

He really has to find a way to throw the team manager’s weight off him. Being pinned like this might just give Sergei every chance to kill him without him even wanting to… or knowing it. But Sorey knows that despite his ability to see hellions or at least sense them, despite his first-hand experience in dealing with them before, he still has no clear idea as to what extent hellions can possess human minds or to what degree they can control human thoughts. The only thing he’s really certain of is the fact that the real Sergei—the Sergei he had known since they were three years old—would never do this to him no matter what differences they might have had as friends or as team mates.

Of course he had always known Sergei liked Alisha. He wasn’t certain if the feeling had blossomed into something more but he might as well consider that a possibility, if those feelings were the trigger that caused this kind of rage to be manipulated by a hellion for its own ends. Not that he even cared to analyze Sergei’s feelings for personal reasons. But knowing how hellions feed on secret desires—he remembers that caped guy explaining something that sounds like it back when he was sucked into that Otherworld—Sergei must have been keeping some deep-seated, subconscious animosity toward him all this time. And although he had suspected the possibility of Sergei’s feelings being this intense, he had never given the situation any serious thought.

Maybe because Sergei had always given in to Alisha’s wants (instead of fighting for his own feelings), had always considered other people’s feelings before his own that it never became obvious to him what Sergei’s true feelings really were or might have been, and how he might have been hurting Sergei for the longest time without knowing it. Or maybe he had known all along… but the confusion had put him at a crossroads as to what to do about the situation, forcing him to ignore Sergei’s personal anguish, to pretend to be oblivious of it…

The same way he pretended to be oblivious of Alisha’s feelings from the very beginning. It’s not like he enjoyed ignoring those emotions; rather, he was too busy obsessing with Mikleo to have any concern for other things that he presumed would fix themselves in time.

So it might have been his fault for letting things spin out of control like this. He carelessly ignored everyone else's feelings just as Sergei fooled himself into thinking he could deny his own wants and let moments and opportunities pass him by.

Well until things became too late, too painful and hurting to endure... even for someone who's endured it for so long. 

“I have Rulay’s number… here…”

Sorey flinched visibly as he saw one of his team mates reach out to take the cellphone being handed to him. For a few seconds the whole world seemed to spin and buzz in his head like all the sensations have just congealed into one compact, indistinct image blending, spinning, and clashing together, blinding and deafening and chaotic, like an eruption of sound and color without any sense or pattern. Because he couldn’t move from beneath Sergei, he could only crane his neck in the direction of those voices he had last heard, suddenly oblivious of Sergei’s fist coming down on his face.

He couldn’t feel his cracked lips, his bleeding cuts as he screamed at his team mate in a voice no one had probably heard him use before: “Dammit, I said no one calls Mikle—”

Sergei landed a solid punch on the other side of his mouth this time. The taste of blood oozing from his cut lip was familiar, and so was the swelling that was beginning to be felt on the jaw below it. But Sorey didn’t care. With every ounce of energy left in him, he managed to hit Sergei’s lower rib with his knee, forcing the team manager to roll off him and to the side as he pushed himself off the ground with both hands and lunged forward, toward his team mate with the phone.

The sound of a click and Mikleo’s voice coming through the other end was enough to stop him in mid-run, enough to numb and paralyze his entire body as nothing else but the warm, rich sound of that voice crowded his senses, dulling everything—all the pain, all the hurt away.

When Mikleo asked what it was about and his team mate told him in one breath that there was trouble brewing in the soccer field, Sorey knew right away what Mikleo would say.

He snatched the phone away, so violently, the student holding it fell on his haunches in wide-eyed shock. Sorey’s heart quickened and a cold sweat broke all over him. “Mikle—uh, this is Sorey, look everything’s fine, there’s no reason for you to—”

In his panic, he had underestimated Mikleo’s logic and common sense.

“S-Sorey! You… are you hurt? You don’t sound like yourself… I’m on my way so don’t wor—”

“No wait-th-there's no reason for you to come-"

"Sorey, stop it all right? I know you need help-"

"This is nothing, all right? Believe me, I got this... you don't have to get involved.”

Mikleo was quiet for about two seconds. But when he finally spoke up it was clear to Sorey he was not going to take his word for it.

"Whatever it is, I just want to be sure you're okay. I'll be there in-"

Sorey cut him off. The idea of Mikleo being anywhere near a hellion is simply out of the question. He would rather have his arm cut off than imagine all the horrible things that can happen again if Mikleo is allowed anywhere near something so malevolent.

Knowing Mikleo's state of vulnerability from their previous encounters with hellions there's no way Sorey is taking chances. "Sorry Mikleo, but there's really nothing much you can do-"

Sorey heard the sharp intake of breath on Mikleo's part. Maybe his concern didn't come out the way he wanted it to but-

"Sorey, stop making up my mind for me. I may be no match for you but I'm still the student council president-not some useless, spineless-"   

"That's NOT what this is about!" Sorey felt nervous letting his anxiety get the better of him but there was no helping it. Worrying makes him mad—not with Mikleo but with himself. “Look, I—I’m sorry but… really… there's nothing to worry about, Mikleo. I can handle this. I'll be the one to fix everything so you don't have to-”

"Everything?" Mikleo cut him off, voice rising an octave as if to emphasize the incredulity of it. “Get over yourself, Sorey, would you? You think I worry ONLY about you, is that it?"

Sorey was taken aback. He can't believe he could trigger Mikleo like this and let him ruffle his feathers the same way. "Look, Mikleo, I didn't mean to make you angry! You know that's NOT what I was trying to-"

"Fine then! Whatever it is, just hold on for a little longer I’ll be there right away.”

“Mikleo, h-hey, I said stay away, oh god, please, Mikleo!”

Obviously, he had already hung up. Sorey stared at the phone angrily, cursing under his breath. From a few feet away, Sergei was getting up and he didn’t look as if he was about to let Sorey get away with that blow he has just given him…

To everybody else who has been watching since the beginning of the fight, Sergei must look no different from how he usually is, except that he’s acting out-of-character, swinging biceps and throwing punches and kicks that no one had seen the team manager do even in the roughest games they’ve played before. For the record, Sergei had never received as much as a yellow card during an actual play when he was still captain of the team. So this is really nothing close to normal for the team manager who was known for his composure, for his calm sense of discipline and authority.

Sorey wiped the blood oozing down his chin. He knew better than to believe that Sergei was just acting out of the ordinary. Some realities after all, are more apparent than others depending on one’s ability to see them, and to see them differently.

Since no one else in the field has the same sensing abilities as he does when it comes to hellions, Sorey knows that not-normal is hardly what is happening to the team manager at the moment. Different from what his team mates could probably see, to him Sergei’s gaze was bloodshot, the frightening color of a fiery, flaming, yet luminous red. It was accompanied by a killing aura that swarmed Sergei's body in fumes--evanescent, transparent, snake-like--swirling transparently like a deep, dark mist cloaking him protectively.

_This is the work of a shadow hellion, no doubt… but…_

Sorey winces. Even though there is apparent danger in the presence of a seething hellion, he has to admit that _that_ kind of worry is far from what is really gnawing at him. Rather, the fear and the anticipation of Mikleo getting entangled in one of his hellion problems again, just when he swore he’d never let Mikleo anywhere close to danger now that they’ve… now that Mikleo is every inch his to protect, is hopelessly making every vein in his body throb with a maddening urge to shatter whatever threat is within reach, to beat and pound the thing until it bleeds. He wasn’t used to panic and hate, not used to being pushed this far onto the verge of violent compulsions, but when it comes to Mikleo...

When it comes to him, it seems so difficult to muster even the slightest veneer of self-control. Because Mikleo... because Mikleo is Mikleo. He has a beauty that not only draws the eyes of others, but likewise draws evil intent toward him. Like some sort of a trouble magnet, he’s the kind of angel who gravitates toward danger in the same way a moth chases the fire and the flame, letting its wings get scorched without caring.

Just the thought of Mikleo within reach of this blood-starved monster that has possessed Sergei is more than enough to make him want to drive the team manager to a corner and beat him up until he’s too numb to move. It’s not that Sergei is easy for him or anyone to beat. But the thought of letting a hellion this powerful use his friend to endanger Mikleo… to touch him and hurt him that way again…

That thought is more than enough to make him take another step toward Sergei, who no doubt, is taller, heavier, more muscular than any other player on the team including him. But right now, he’s not even keeping score of those differences as he lands another punch on the senior’s chest, pushing him back with the sheer force of that hit. As Sorey takes a moment to gaze back at his childhood friend, Sergei spares him a look of absolute conceit even when he had already collapsed against the tree behind him, his knees crumpled beneath him as he held onto his stomach, his eyes not leaving Sorey who seemed about ready to deal him a crushing blow.

Even from a distance, some of their team mates have started wincing, while several were either shaking their heads or looking away. Definitely, something in their team manager’s posture didn’t look right. Although Sorey has definitely taken more punches than Sergei, the latter’s right shoulder seems to be dipping too heavily toward his right hip, as if a bone has been dislocated or a large swelling has made it excruciatingly painful to move or lift its weight normally.

In any case, Sergei Strelka didn’t look good at all.

But Sorey was hardly done with the hellion festering inside the same person he had respected both as a close friend and as a team mate. Whether his thoughts about ending the fight still regarded those relationships as a determining factor for what he was about to do next seemed unclear as his mind sparked with a frightening resolve: he wants to end this before Sergei can do irreversible damage later…

Because Sorey was more afraid of himself right now, more afraid of what he could do even to his own friend if he should ever have to witness him or anyone lifting a single finger on Mikleo for whatever reason…

Sorey steeled his breath as he pulled all his remaining energy from the pit of his stomach, from his chest and his tired limbs where he could feel both muscle and tendon throbbing, pulsating with an eagerness he hadn’t felt before. With a deep breath he imagined pushing, driving, channeling that energy to his right hand. Then clenching that hand into a fist, he held out his other palm wide open like a wall to hold in some of that power coursing through him, as he slowly waited for the energy to build up within him before release. For a few seconds he wondered where his aim might be, which part Sergei would most likely be vulnerable excluding those parts of him that looked heavily bruised and injured. The decision wasn’t easy to make… Sergei was his friend, and he was doing this only to keep the hellion from using that body to hurt anyone else. With a deep breath, he let his fist—his entire body—fly toward its chosen trajectory straight onto Sergei’s torso—an easy target since the team manager was not in a position to defend, his body slumped heavily in the same way he fell when Sorey had last given him that blow.

His fist connected to something hard and solid. But Sorey drew back, sensing something terribly wrong.

Crossed arms blocked his hit. Sorey was forced to stare hard at the power that met his own in that split second moment of indecision…

From the corner of his mind, he realized two seconds was all he needed to make one fatal mistake he would regret…

Sergei stood up and with a swift forward step grabbed Sorey by the front of his shirt and kicked him at the hip with his right knee.

Sorey didn’t see it coming. Or maybe, he just underestimated the hellion’s power to read his emotions, to take advantage of any hesitation, any flicker of indecision that might slow him down.

In any case, he fell backwards, his vision spinning as he squinted his eyes at the source of that inhuman strength that almost killed him with pain. But the sunlight was blocking his view and all he could hear were panic-stricken voices, worried voices. Then it felt like someone was holding him by the shoulder… The touch was soft, gentle, but it was an unfamiliar touch and he felt like flinching from it… There was a voice that came with it that sounded pleading, calling out his name, but he could barely make out the rest of what it was trying to tell him because his mind was burning with the swirl and light of incomprehensible shades and shadows accompanied by flickers then maddening bursts of pain shooting up and down his hips, his chest, everywhere…

“Sorey, gods, Sorey… please… please be all right…”

He felt something—fingers—touch his chest. He flinched at the sensation. This caress… it didn’t feel like Mikleo’s…

His hand moved to stop the other hand from touching him. He shook his head at the presence, as if to say what his lips, what his mouth couldn’t. He blinked several times hoping to catch sight of even an outline or a shadow, but nothing much could get through the sunlight blinding him, sending splinters and specks of white dust floating around his vision…

“Sorey, it’s me, Alisha… Why are you and Sergei—I mean, what happened?”

Sorey shook his head at her. He would have given her a wan smile to cover up the fact that he was hurting like hell, but even the corner of his lips felt numb. Even so, his body tried to get up. He wanted to know how Sergei was, or to be honest, what’s keeping the hellion inside of him from giving him a finishing blow. Vaguely, he wondered how much control the hellion had over Sergei’s own strength really… not that he doubted his friend or for a second even suspected that he might have been responsible for anything his body did… but if Sergei’s mind could somehow be awakened—or even if part of it had been awake all this time—wouldn’t he have tried to stop the hellion inside of him? Despite what has happened, he was certain Sergei would’ve done just that. His friend would’ve at least tried to resist that shadow that was taking over his mind and body, twisting and warping his anger into something inhuman and terrifying, into a madness dripping with all the killing intent of an insidiously evil power…

Which makes him think of the unthinkable. If Sergei had been corrupted this much, wouldn’t that mean… Sorey winces not from the oozing cut on his swollen lips but the impact of that idea fleeting, hovering at the edge of reason and fear creeping into his muddled brain. Vaguely, he wondered… what secret intents, what desires could his old childhood friend have harbored so deeply and secretly beneath all that mask of passive, logical, level-headed composure Sergei had always shown him and everybody else… so much so it came out so twisted, so soaked up and dripping in pure and absolute rage—the kind of hate that is so blind and relentless it forgets everything… even friendship?

Sorey stopped himself. There was no need for condemnation. When he had hit Sergei twice, he felt an immense power in his own fists… and that power was fueled by a selfish feeling that must be no different.

His need to protect Mikleo… his thoughtless fear of Mikleo getting hurt, of being touched that way by anything or anyone…

So this is how Malevolence works. It can twist even the best of intentions into something selfishly corrupt and lust-driven, into something malicious and perverted.

It has the power to turn good into evil, because the line between the two has never really been carefully drawn… And when the mind begins to rationalize everything, to understand its personal desires as their own justification, and starts sowing the weight of all the consequences of its decisions on something as blind and fragile as faith in what it perceives as good… then the seeds of dissent start growing within…

As if all it needed is a tiny spark of twisted hope… a belief that can be warped into something ugly… something that satisfies a deep, secret hunger that has never been acknowledged… a need that has been repressed and abused by ignorance and neglect…

Evil cannot be denied. Denying it only makes it stronger… like any powerful feelings… even love…

So even love can corrupt someone from within…

But if this hellion feeds on such feelings deep within Sergei, then it must be satisfied one way or another for it to want to stay, unless Sergei gives up those feelings on his own. But how? And if he, the target of that power, shows any weakness here, then how can that lust be further provoked? Definitely, that hellion must find a new target, an excuse for channeling its hate into something physical… because evil is an energy that thrives on actions and consequences…

On means and ends… physical events… objects, targets, agents, time…

Sorey doesn’t understand any of it even though some of those ideas do make sense. But the solution, the more important thing, seems even more evasive. How do you keep evil from happening and taking over? It doesn’t seem possible, any more than it is possible to throw away all human emotions that drive and divide good and evil…

Alisha tried to push him back but he shook his head and kept his teeth clenched as he forced himself to get up. She tried to get in his way as he shifted his weight, moving his foot forward, one step at a time…

A distinct shade of red came up right in front of him as he tried to walk toward the direction of where he got hit.

“Hey, you look like shit just now, calm down will you? I don’t think Sergei’s gonna be moving for a while… I hope.”

Sorey knew that voice. It must be Rose.

“W-what…?” He wanted to say more but his jaw was numbing just now, and he could taste blood even without moving his tongue much.

“I kicked his you-know-what. I guess I overdid it though… You think he’s gonna kill me if he finds out he ain’t gonna have kids after this?”

Sorey tried to grin but it was just too painful. He ended up wincing slightly.

Rose was quick to reassure him. “Nah, don’t worry, I couldn’t have done much… or didn’t have to. When he saw you fall down looking like that, I swear I saw him stop and stare like he’s just woken up after a good sleep… What the heck happened really?”

Sorey would have wanted more than anything to answer that question if he knew how to explain something so complicated and hard-to-believe. But something else caught their attention. Rose looked over her shoulder and even if Sorey couldn’t see her face, the emotions that ebbed around her gave him an idea what it was about.

Sergei was stirring again. This time though, everyone—or at least it looked that way from behind—surged forward, pushing and pinning Sergei down on the ground as the latter struggled violently.

“C-captain, just—just get out of here!”

It’s one of the newbies who threw himself onto the fray, putting his weight on top of everyone else as Sergei’s body continued to twist and heave. Still, the massive heap that all his team mates made with their bodies pressing down on the team manager wasn’t enough. From behind—Sorey could only see their backs—the commotion looked just about ready to erupt, as his team mates struggled to push their weights down even as Sergei managed to push back and toss one or two bodies off of him, making it hard to believe that Sorey had ever been able to maim him just a few minutes ago.

From the way it looks, it seems Sergei is just about _not_ ready to calm down yet.

“Sheesh, I didn’t know soccer can be _this_ crazy! Whatever did you do or say to get Sergei acting like he wanted to kill you, huh?”

Sorey felt there’s nothing he can say to explain it. He felt Alisha touch his elbow.

“I—I think it’s not a bad idea to let Sergei be alone until he calms down… or maybe we can call someone… a teacher? But you’re the one who needs urgent help, gods, Sorey… you’re bleeding everywhere…”

He felt her hand move and brush his lips lingeringly. He reached up to push it back gently and shook his head. “L-look… I’m not… gonna die… here…”

Alisha would have argued despite the stubborn expression that met her eyes if Sorey had not looked away, shifting his attention onto the commotion behind her.

“Captain! We don’t think we can hold him off for long… so just—just get out while you still—”

Sorey winced as one of his teammates was practically hurled onto the ground by the brute force of Sergei’s violent pushing while he was giving him that warning. He shook his head again at Alisha, even as he tried to get a few words to roll off his tongue. Even that felt incredibly painful, though, with the swelling bruises on his jaw and mouth that hampered the slightest movement. “My—my phone… to call someone…”

He was thinking about Lailah, Zaveid, Eizen… even Dezel since he has an animus too, doesn’t he? Anyone with that can do something about this hellion problem… In any case, it’s not just a matter of getting rid of a class three shadow by the signs of it, but also a matter of saving Sergei…

Sorey knew that if Sergei’s mind were conscious of what was going on, it would have been in terrible knots right now, tortured between watching and trying to stop something unstoppable that was definitely beyond the powers of science, or logic, or faith to explain…

Knowing and feeling Sergei’s dedication to the team, how he treated everyone with brotherly affection like they were a family, makes it even more difficult to imagine what his friend must be feeling at this moment. But that realization only made him wish even more desperately that Sergei’s mind wasn’t all that aware. True, by the way Rose described that sudden hesitation in Sergei’s movement after that final, shattering hit that almost knocked Sorey out, it seemed that he was trying to wrestle some control from the hellion—maybe had even tried to lessen the impact of those brutal blows from before. If that were true, Sergei’s determination and resolve must be more than admirable… to be able to resist a hellion’s influence without any special ability or equipment, much less an animus to keep it down, Sergei’s inner strength must be nothing ordinary…

 _Could it be?_ Sorey wanted to believe it, or finds himself accepting it as the only possibility… Could it be Sergei was one of those so-called _soul-of-light_ incarnate, one of those who had been resurrected from the Otherworld to guard the Vessel, to serve as its protector? But if that were true, then how was it possible that a hellion managed to possess him so easily, so quickly as if he were no different from any other potential human victim out there? Unless this hellion is being controlled by someone or something unbelievably more powerful… a malign will lurking, slinking from the depths of some hidden shadow… watching them from a distance maybe…

“C-captain, I’m telling you we—can’t hold him—gods, he’s too—strong—Captain, just—just get away as far as you can, he’s gonna break—”

It was the same newbie who gave him that warning. Sorey couldn’t help but stare indecisively, torn between moving and staying. He looked at Rose.

“Y-your phone… call Lailah…”

Rose winced at him. “Stubborn aren’t we? By the time they get here, you’d be chopped liver. Why don’t you listen just this once?”

Sorey shook his head. He can’t leave, even if, admittedly, that would be the best thing to do. True, it seems more reasonable to get out of Sergei’s way to lessen the risk of provocation and simply contact either Lailah or Zaveid by phone along the way. Given the fact that they have hellion-hunting weapons with them, all the equipment that might be effective against these insanely powerful, perfidious pests, there’s no need for him to be further involved. But…

Just the thought of Mikleo coming here pushed any plan of leaving far from his thoughts. The last thing he wanted was to let Mikleo anywhere near this kind of threat. Right now, he can’t get the fear out of his head, the fact that Mikleo must really be on his way despite the anger in his warning, in his plea to stay away…

His fears have just been answered.

“S-Sorey?”

He would know that voice anywhere. Even if he could only see with his right eye right now, his left having to squint out the blood oozing from a nasty cut on his temple, he was certain who said that, and in his panic, he surged forward, forgetting the excruciating pain throbbing on his right hip that told him he must have broken something so bad—

Mikleo caught him in time as he fell on one knee, losing his balance the moment he moved his right leg.

Sorey let himself be caught, one hand falling on Mikleo’s shoulder, the other catching his wrist in a tight grip. The moment they touched all the hurt in his body seemed to have dissipated and nothing… suddenly nothing else mattered to his senses but the scent of him… When Mikleo gets this close, it is easy enough to forget everything else and to just languish in the sweet, minty, lavender scent that is now making every inch of his skin bristle with a strange, throbbing sensation. But as the mad cries and insane shouting of his team mates became more persistent, Sorey forced himself to focus. The fact that those protests have started to sound more desperate as if to point out the terrifying truth that despite their concerted efforts Sergei cannot be made to calm down, as if the team manager has completely lost control and deteriorated into something unspeakably inhuman, a savage, raving, raging, mindless monster… just thinking how strong the hellion inside Sergei really is, how much damage it can do with no one left to stop it, Sorey can’t help but feel an immense wave of panic surging and pushing at him like a tidal wave, making him suddenly afraid and angry in a way he has never felt before.

Because unlike before, he feels completely helpless now… weak and battered beyond hope. The fear and frustration added up to it and, suddenly, all the hate toward himself and the hellion just violently pushed itself out and toward Mikleo.

“I—d-dammit Mikleo! I told you-warned you not-not to come here! If anything happens to you—if you get hurt-I don't even know what I-”

Mikleo put an index finger on Sorey’s lips to shush him. It seems he has been doing a lot of that lately, but there isn’t time to dwell on the thought. Just trying to keep that finger from trembling is already taking a lot of his concentration so much so there isn’t much he can do, despite the urgency of the moment, but to stare and wait for his panic to subside a little. He has never seen Sorey so beat up. There was blood everywhere: on his shirt, on his cheeks, some of which had caked halfway from there to his chin… And both his lips were cut and bleeding too, beneath the swelling purple that made it a miracle that he could still speak even a little.

That aside, the way Sorey had fallen earlier, the way his knees buckled when he tried to run to where Mikleo was when he called out Sorey’s name, Mikleo knew right away it wasn’t just bad.

Sorey was a scary mess.

Mikleo shook his head, trying to keep his own voice from trembling as his eyes took all of Sorey in—the blood, the black, swollen bruises, the cuts, gashes and the lost smile and brilliance in those emerald eyes that used to burst with so much warmth, like those of a kid who couldn’t wait for the moment to open his favorite present…

He used to be so annoyed at how cloyingly sweet that gaze was, how cheesy, how so obviously trying to get his attention and now… all of that has been dulled and shattered by so much pain that’s invisible but no less felt in the way Sorey was struggling to say even the simplest words…

Mikleo steeled his breath. He can’t break down here, not in front of everyone… not when Sorey seems on the verge of panic and fury just seeing him here…

Even when things looked really bad for him, Sorey was worrying about him. It wasn’t fair.

He didn’t try to shake the grip off his wrist even when he knew Alisha and Rose were staring. He could only care less about what they thought.

“Sorey…” His voice sounded strange in his own ears, but he needed to say something, anything. He pushed some of his nervousness aside, tried to shut off the drumming beat of his own heart that was making him deaf to his own voice. “Just—just calm down, all right? I’ll take care of this the best I can… and…” Mikleo leaned a little more closely, almost touching Sorey’s nose with his so he could speak in a voice much lower than a whisper, “… and you most of all…”

If there was a chance they could kiss he would have wanted that but… it was a good thing there wasn’t…

He would have cried like a shameless idiot if they did…

He stood up finally, but Sorey wrenched him back toward him, making him fall on one knee right next to Sorey. Thank god he was able to use his arm as support to break his fall and keep himself from landing on Sorey’s chest.

“Sorey!!!”

The gaze that met his was hard and stubborn. But the voice was even more so.

"Just... stay... stay with  me, all right?" Then Sorey shifted his attention to Rose. “Please... call Lailah... before it's-”

Rose shifted her gaze from Sorey to Mikleo, and saw how tightly Sorey held onto the latter with that wild sort of panic she hasn’t seen before. She winced in disbelief, but despite what she felt after seeing them that way, so inseparably bonded like lovesick idiots, she had to smile… as if somehow, a part of her knew it was something good... something worth her and Alisha's heartache?

That woke her up and without wasting a single breath she pulled out her cellphone and showed it to Sorey.

“I already did. Lailah said she’s coming. I don’t know what she can do to fix this mess but… you seem to be confident enough… I just hope you know what you’re doing…”

Sorey couldn’t smile all that much but he nodded as much as he could. “T-thanks…”

Mikleo’s wrist was starting to numb from Sorey’s grip. But for some reason, he didn’t have the heart to complain about that right now. Alisha was having trouble keeping her eyes on them, shifting her gaze from Sergei then back to Sorey, then Rose. It seemed she couldn’t as much as look Mikleo in the face, not that it was something he had a right to complain about. It would probably take some time for the two of them to be comfortable around each other, especially with Sorey this close.

But Sorey wasn’t even showing the slightest sign that he was embarrassed or uncomfortable having his friends see them together like this. Somehow, Mikleo felt good that he wasn’t—though some part of him wondered how nonchalant Sorey seemed to be about their relationship. Or maybe Sorey was more concerned about what was happening to Sergei Strelka, to the point of being oblivious of everybody else’s presence…

In any case, what really happened here? It doesn’t seem like Sergei is just angry or upset. The commotion behind him—not to mention those injuries Sorey sustained from Sergei’s attacks—clearly suggests that this isn’t a simple case of practice stress that deteriorated into a nasty brawl or scuffle between players who got onto each other’s nerves. Something is definitely wrong, given that the reputably good-natured, calm and disciplined team manager—of all people—seems to have triggered it.

“Rose, isn't it?” Mikleo knew Sorey could’t explain much right now so he was hoping Rose could help him out. “Is there something important I should know about what’s going on?”

Rose looked at Sorey, then at  Mikleo, shifting on her feet as she desperately tried _not_ to look at Alisha with that stealthy, evasive half-glance that was so characteristically _Rose_ anyway Sorey had to wince. “I dunno, all I know is that if there’s any reason for Sergei to have a teeny, tiny anger issue with this guy, it would have something to do with Alisha… err... you DIDN'T tell him about the break-up did you?”

Sorey's wince turned into a frown and his lips began to throb even when he had barely gotten a word out. “He… he just... got mad…”

“I see…” Mikleo looked suddenly thoughtful. He tried to stand up but Sorey pulled him down again, shaking his head stubbornly.

“No, Mikleo, y-you're not—I won't let you-” It was really painful, even if his speech seemed monosyllabic, since even getting a single word out made his jaw throb like it was about to split open. “What-whatever happens, I-want you close-”

Mikleo frowned. “Look, I understand your concern, I really do, but this thing can’t drag on forever! You know as much as I do that inciting this kind of trouble will not only cost Sergei Strelka his position in the team. He could get expelled… even if I know he’s a big shot like you and Edna. Things can get even worse if the school board decides to cancel your participation in the upcoming competition because of this."

Rose huffed. "You're kidding, right?" 

Mikleo shook his head with dead certainty. "It happens all the time. Disciplinary councils are normally harsher on athletes and more so when the school's reputation is at stake. As a member of the student disciplinary board I'm well aware of previous incidents that involved such things.”

Sorey just kept shaking his head the whole time. “There's... ab-solutely... no way... I'm... letting... you put... yourself... in danger...”

"But Sorey, you're forgetting how important your position is on the team! And I think it's obvious enough how much this team means to you!"

"I-never said-it wasn't-but-"

"Let me help then-"

"No, not like this-"

"You don't trust me, is that it?"

Sorey looked livid, grabbing Mikleo's other wrist as well. "G-gods, you... know it's... not that! How can... you even... say-"

"Then try to understand!"

"Hate me but... I won't-WON'T let anyone hurt... you again... why... why can't you... see that?"

Mikleo shook his head back at him though he could feel his knees getting weak with Sorey's explicit and undisguised concern. “Worrying and taking care of things like these... they're part of a student leader's job and everyone expects that of me—”

Sorey pressed his hand on Mikleo’s shoulder urgently, in that sort of way he knew Mikleo would _not dare_ ignore. “Don't give... a damn... about _that_ part. You're not... leaving... my side... ever... again..."

Mikleo knew there was nothing to complain about those feelings. For certain he would have said the same to Sorey if it had been the other way around but still, he couldn't just agree to that selfish side of Sorey's concern, flattering it may be. “Sorey, _you_ should know better than anyone that if I don't _try_ and settle this, you..." He paused for breath, trying to make himself calm though his chest was heaving in panic. "You and your team--ugly things can happen and--and I don't want that for you!”

Sorey's eyes softened for a second but he tried to steel himself, to look angry because... he didn't want Mikleo's worry...

He tightened his grip around Mikleo’s wrist as his right eye narrowed warningly. “Mikleo... listen... if saving... the team... or anyone... means putting you... at risk... I'd rather-”

Mikleo's eyes widened. "No, it-it's not your place to say that and-and there's nothing more I hate than you giving up on things because-"

"But Mikleo..." Sorey's serious expression didn't flicker but his eyes had that soft, languid expression that could melt even the most stubborn pride. "Is it... so... wrong... to protect... what's important?"

"That's not it!"

Sorey reached out to him, stopping his hand in mid-air between touching Mikleo's lips and those soft lids that framed a steady gaze. He let his hand rest on Mikleo's shoulder instead even though every part of him trembled with the longing and the urge to hold Mikleo, all of him and not let go. Knowing how badly muffled his speech was going to be, he squeezed Mikleo's shoulder fondly, hoping to convey there what he can't put into words.

Mikleo felt odd. "Sorey?"

Sorey smiled softly, tenderly, putting all of his feelings in that frail gesture. "Crimson... snow... is... beautiful..."

Mikleo stared long and hard at him in disbelief. Then looking as if he has finally given up, Mikleo huffed. "Really, I can't believe you'd say things like _that_ just to win this argument..."

Sorey tried to smile though the pain was cutting through him. "My first... official... win huh? Don't... forget... you owe... this jerk..."

Mikleo flinched at that wanton teasing. "I don't have money on me so take a rain check."

"I have...a better... idea."

Sorey's tone was soft but Mikleo caught the meaning in the tone. "You're still as embarrassing as hell, sheesh..."

He caught Mikleo's hand for a moment, hiding the gesture between them to keep Mikleo from feeling more embarrassed. "Sorry but... you're... hope... lessly... stuck with... this... bastard... " Seeing Mikleo's blush, he smiled though his jaw hurt like hell. "Makes... me wish... there's... a better... me... who deserves... you more..."

Mikleo averted his gaze, afraid to see those raw emotions, which seemed too honest for comfort. But Sorey was quick to catch Mikleo's chin between fingertips and swiveled his face ever so gently toward him so he could look into those lavender eyes.

Mikleo panicked. If anyone else could see them like that...

Rose and Alisha were looking away at least. And the rest of the soccer team seemed  too busy wrestling with Sergei to spare them a glance. 

His worries didn't have time to simmer as he felt Sorey's emerald eyes giving him that tender, pleading look that made his knees suddenly weak on him. It's one of those things that convinced him how powerful his attraction to Sorey really was, how Sorey had his heart in a bind just like this...  

Sorey sighed deeply. "Promise... you'll listen... next time... please...?"

Mikleo huffed, pretending to look annoyed though he was certain Sorey could see right through it like glass. "Yeah, 'cause you're a real killer, I get that now."

Sorey felt amused as Mikleo started to sound more like himself, but still, he wanted to make him feel wanted, needed... There's nothing he wouldn't do to erase the misunderstanding between them. "Uh Mik... leo... since you really... wanna... help out... I can... use some com... forting... right now... Ouch!"

"Oh god, where does it hurt?" Mikleo knew it was a stupid question but he had never panicked this much before.

"It real... ly... hurts... here... and here..." Then Sorey points to his lips, puckering a little. "And here... most... of all... you know..."

Mikleo scrunched up his face, trying his best to suppress a blush as Sorey gave him his best kicked-puppy look. "Say that to your doctor... which I _am_ _not_..."

Sorey pulled him by the elbow lightly, and though the gesture looked casual enough, Mikleo knew what Sorey was up to. "Uh, c'mon... Mikleo! I'm hur-ting... really, really... bad... and I need you-"

Mikleo looked flustered, like a current of electricity had just run through him. "Sheesh, it's not like I'm cut out for cuddling babies-uh, I mean-"

Sorey gave him a doofus grin as if to declare the embarrassment on his pursed lips. Mikleo didn't know how he let that slip but couldn't help noticing how Sorey could look cute despite all the swollen bruises and cuts and caked blood smearing that adorable chin and mouth.

"Sheesh, let's just... stop with the cheesy stuff, all right?"

"What... ever... my... _Mikleo_..."

A deep red crept up Mikleo's already flustered face as memories of those moments spent tangled in each other's embrace came flooding him.. details of secret whisperings and name-moaning and-and... Mikleo felt his heart rise to his throat. "Sh-shut up!"

"Much like saying love kills, huh?" Rose butt in, swathing her face. "Sheesh, and I thought sweets are teeth-rotting, can't believe even my soul can get antsy with plain, stupid lovetalk between you two! Which reminds me, whatever happened last night right after Alisha and I-"

Mikleo glared back. "N-nothing important, gods! Do you actually think we'd do anything-I mean-" Mikleo felt his tongue becoming uncooperative as his face started to feel unbelievably hot. "There's no reason to ask about such things even!"

"Oh yeah?" Rose's eyebrows twitched visibly. "So how come you're shaking and trembling like a bundle of nerves right now, Mikster?"

"W-what the-" Mikleo clenched his fist at her. "Don't Mikster me, you know Sorey and I are just-just-"

Sorey's head and shoulders perked up at Mikleo's flustered denial, but there was no way he was going to give in to the disappointment without punishing Mikleo a little for it. Besides, Mikleo's cuteness was just too tempting, and maybe slumping heavily on Mikleo's shoulders for support might be more convincing; after all, seeing Mikleo worry over him is also beautiful and heart-warming in its own way, selfish and self-centered it may be.

To say the least, the distraction was effective for Mikleo's eyes were all over him again, those lavender eyes that were just too precious to be allowed to stray somewhere else.

"Sorey, you wanna lie down for a bit?"

He made good effort to visibly wince in pain. "I... I guess I'd be okay... with a good... bed rest... but... only if-if... you know..."

Mikleo lowered his eyelids at that, bestowing Sorey an embarrassed yet threatening glare as if he already knew what he was up to. "Say it if you dare."

Sorey gave him a languid, meaningful look that made Mikleo's knees shiver involuntarily. It seemed as if his body knew exactly and even anticipated the hidden power behind that look that Sorey was openly showing, without the slightest inhibition.

Mikleo could hardly bear the pounding in his chest as Sorey looked up at him with that same, soft, languid expression that reminded Mikleo of last night when Sorey trailed kisses on his back before turning him over and-   

_Gods... I-I really am gonna have to kill you after this Sorey!_

But that didn't prepare him for what Sorey was about to say as he gently brushed Mikleo's wrist with the tip of his thumb, drawing invisible circles there. "I'm... already... kinda... missing... doing this... with you... in bed..." 

Mikleo is most definitely flustered hearing that and didn't have the luxury to hide the blush that made him pink all over. "What the hell-just sh-shut up already, all right!"

"Sheesh, am I hearing things or are you two just having some sort of emotional se--uh, never mind!" Rose cut herself short, eyes darting toward Alisha who, as she had expected, was looking away, unable to watch Sorey being so attentive and caring toward someone else? Somehow Alisha acting like some repressed jealous lover like this is making her blood boil—and she doesn’t even have time to analyze why. It doesn’t seem like any clear answer is just going to pop up anywhere if she asked. Actually, she’s not even certain why she’s even thinking about what she feels about it. What is wrong with her?

Whatever it is, she felt her hand reach out for Alisha’s shoulder. But suddenly, something like a cloud seemed to have passed by and cast a shadow on her and Alisha, clouding her vision somewhat slightly. It made her perk up.

A tall man with a wide chest span, broad shoulders and a generally muscular frame—bulky and heavy unlike Zaveid’s body which seemed much more slender despite his brawn—was standing next to them. He was wearing a classic, elegant gray and black suit, almost old-fashioned in the way it clung in a very tailored way to his big, towering frame. He didn’t look that old—somewhat her own dad’s age maybe if he were still alive—like maybe not even past forty-five? But what seemed to make his features strikingly breathtaking—enough to catch her attention and hold it wordlessly—was the cold, yet piercingly deep, sapphire blue eyes that seemed to speak whole volumes with their lingering, penetrating gaze. Though his profile was completely visible, his eyes were not even looking at either her or Alisha.

He was looking straight at… Mikleo?

Sorey seemed to have sensed immediate danger, pulling—if not shoving—Mikleo behind him. He didn’t mean to be rough but the way that man was looking straight at him and Mikleo… Whatever was on his mind didn’t feel so good. Add to that the fact that this man was a complete stranger… It seemed unlikely that they have met or were ever introduced to each other since he had a good memory of people’s faces and names, making it highly unlikely for him to forget or misunderstand…

The man smiled… or more like tried to suppress a grin as his lips curved into a somewhat polite expression meant for old friends meeting again. “I’m sorry to interrupt like this but… if you must be curious, we’ve met a long time ago… so long ago it seemed unlikely that I will forget it for as long as I live. You can call me Mr. Heathbran, by the way… And I have a gift for your friend…”

Sorey’s grip tightened around Mikleo as the man slipped his hand inside his vest and pulled out something from its inner pocket.

It was strange. Mikleo frowned at the thin frame of gold that held a sparkling blue gem at the center, cut and shaped like a diamond held in place by a delicate set of wires made of gold or maybe a similar metal. The delicate filigree looked beautiful enough, and seemed to match in craftsmanship the large, conspicuously brilliant, blue diamond ring on the man’s right hand.

Sorey grew livid as the man—Mr. Heathbran was it—took a step toward Mikleo.

“Get—back, Mikleo!”

As those words slipped out of him, never mind the cut that started bleeding again—he stood up with a sudden jerk, forcing Mikleo to stand behind him, whose free hand went to Sorey’s shoulders quickly to give support, as if afraid he might stagger and fall any minute.

But Sorey was oblivious of the hot, throbbing, swelling pain shooting up his leg. He gave Mr. Heathbran a smoldering, warning look. “I—don’t know—you—so—can’t… let you… come closer…”

Mr. Heathbran’s lips didn’t change their expression. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that, _Shepherd Sorey_ …”

As that name left the man’s lips, Sorey felt his chest throb in recognition. Some part of him sensed that he has heard it spoken in the exact same way before, though the time, place, and circumstance seemed too vague to recall.

“Besides,” the voice continues with the same deep, rich tone, “your seraph friend—Mikleo is it—must know I have something of his that he has left behind… something so important… a memento from the past he can’t be without…”

 _Did—did he just call Mikleo a seraph?_ Sorey pushed Mikleo back in panic, unable to deny how the discovery was making him shudder at the possibilities and implications that made themselves known, emerging it seems from those dark, hazy thoughts that lingered and disturbed him intermittently. But the hand that reached out to him was quicker than Sorey could pull himself together from those startling conclusions. He watched with a sickening fear as that hand grabbed Mikleo by the arm and pulled him forward, roughly, shoving Sorey back down with a violent urgency that under normal circumstances he would've been able to resist so easily.

Sorey clenched his teeth as pain started to shoot through his ankle, his thigh, his hip, before spreading throughout his entire body. But he didn’t—couldn’t let all of that hinder him now. He was slightly thankful that Alisha had caught him from behind, because it allowed him to shift his weight on his less injured leg and to move his other hip and leg forward to reach out and pull Mikleo back to safety.

Heldalf was quick and certain, though. In less time than it took Sorey to take another step, he had managed to put the coronet on Mikleo’s forehead in one, swift, unhampered motion. Mikleo himself was too confused, too baffled and mystified by the gesture to react in any way; in the midst of all the distractions, he barely managed to flinch beneath the former general’s smoldering stare.

Sorey grabbed Mikleo by the shoulder and pulled him back, his fingers almost numbing in panic. Something didn’t feel right, didn’t look right. Time seemed to have frozen around them as everything stood still… except him and the man who introduced himself as Mr. Heathbran.

Sorey felt this before, the workings of a hellion-hunting weapon called animus. But he wasn’t quite certain why this man have that kind of power in his possession, why he seemed to have some deep knowledge of who he, Sorey, was and was able to attach something to Mikleo which could have been the animus itself.

But why Mikleo? If he planned on hurting him, then he must be quite the opposite of a _Soul-of-Light_ incarnate, an opponent connected to hellions…

If that's true, then it's possible that Sergei's possession has also been _his_ doing... Sorey winced at that realization, dragging himself closer to Mikleo. Whoever that bastard truly is, whatever his true goals might be, Sorey knows only one thing: he should protect Mikleo even if that meant giving it every ounce of energy left in him at the moment.  

Heldalf smiled wanly. “It’s strange to see a young, upstart, stubborn warrior as you looking so beaten and shattered. This is far from what I expected of you, Shepherd Sorey…”

Sorey was seething. He spread his arms wide to shield Mikleo. “St-stop calling—me that!”

Heldalf grinned. “Whether I call you by your true name or not remains irrelevant. You are the warrior I seek, the legendary Shepherd of the Age of Chaos who has shattered not only destinies but worlds beyond imagining…”

Sorey could feel a strange heat swarming his entire body as he tried to shake that name off his mind. It's unnerving, hearing people address him in a way that he remembers but hates—how complete strangers keep popping out of nowhere with the strangest presumption that he, Sorey Sheppard, is meant to do something good for the world, like he's some fighter who stands for truth and justice, a defender of good against evil.

He's fighting an urge to scream at everyone right now that he’s no savior, no redeemer, and definitely no biblical shepherd who believes in sacrifices and the vindication of all humanity. He hates having to live under the shadow of someone else’s heroism. He’s just Sorey Sheppard, an ordinary teenager, someone who doesn’t care about saving anyone except for one person, a certain boy with the most beautiful lavender eyes, who makes him weak and stupid and yet, he’s the only one, the one person who can move his soul in such a way he’d be willing to fight hellions and all these supernatural odds just to protect all the things that are precious to him… that one person that makes every hell he’d been through bearable, worth living for…

And he can’t even explain why Mikleo has that much power over him, as if somehow his soul from long ago had made that promise—that he would live only for _him_ , and no matter how many lives he was doomed to live over and over, he would live, he would endure, just to keep that promise alive…

But promise or no promise, that's what he wants to do. The fact that this man is stirring these strange feelings inside of him, giving him a reminder of some forgotten identity that is better left forgotten is making him angry.

He needs no reminder to realize what he wants, what he feels. He needs no forgotten identity to make him want Mikleo, to make him certain of his feelings, his commitment to protect what's dearest to him...

“Shepherd Sorey… it would be a rare privilege to stand before you again, in a battle that will put an end to our old, bitter enmity, our endless war against each other’s principles and beliefs… about the absolute _end_ of our worlds.”

“It’s Sheppard, all right?" he blurted out, wincing as pain shoots from his swollen jaw and blood oozes from the cuts and bruises on his mouth. "And I’m… no… Shepherd. I don’t—need—a stupid war—in order to win…”

“Filthy, cowardly lies make a fine disguise... but I won't let you forget so easily who I am."

“I—don’t—care—who—”

“I am Heldalf, and if you want your seraph to be granted release from the power that chains him to me, then you _must_ care, Shepherd, as to who speaks before you.”

Sorey flicked a look at Mikleo. For as long as Mikleo stays beside him, he knows things will be all right. He will find a way… because that’s what he promised to himself. He will take care of Mikleo no matter what—hellions, demons, gods—even if Time itself were to stop moving, he will draw whatever power he can with his own will to save Mikleo.

Because without him, there’s no reason to fight or to live or die. He won’t even have to worry about what happens to his soul. Even hell won’t mean a thing. If Mikleo… if ever anything happens to him, the whole world can burn to ashes…

But not today. Not when Mikleo has just given him the most precious treasure he could ever receive from someone so special…

Mikleo's trust, his affection, his smile, his attention... Sorey wanted all of that to be his. And Mikleo's kisses assured him that his feelings were the same and run just as deep as Sorey's.

Hearing himself say that, Sorey wasn't sure where his optimism was coming from, knowing in his heart Mikleo would never endure him saying _that_ …

But if anyone were to ask, all he wants right now is a personal sanctuary, a place where he can do what he’s always wanted… just simple things… spending time with Mikleo doing nonsense things. To be honest, everything else besides that doesn't make sense anymore and he's too tired to think of wins and successes and accomplishments. Then again, if enduring this battle fatigue, this dragging weariness is part of the sacrifice that he must make to have something worth keeping…

Mikleo’s eyes were closed, the coronet sparkling, shimmering with a pure, sublime, bluish-white light that made Mikleo’s profile glow with a strangely beautiful evanescence that was mesmerizing in itself.

Sorey had to force himself to look away and turn his attention back to Heldalf. That was his real name, wasn’t it?

He summoned all his inner resolve to speak. “What—do—you—want… from me then… Heldalf?”

Heldalf’s eyes shimmered at the sound of his name on the boy’s lips as if that alone was a moment to relish, a small victory worth the wait. “I want you to call upon your holy power—the power of purification—the trigger that will break the seal of Time itself and unleash the greatest, most terrifying Will that no god or demon can ever hope to stand against!”

Sorey raised an eyebrow at that. This sounded worse than the movies. Do villains just step out of the shadows like this, approaching complete strangers who might set all hell loose with a mere snap of his fingers or the wave of a wand? He knew some plots to be straightforward, but this sounded unbelievably ludicrous...

Sorey shook his head. He looked at Heldalf, taking in all the brute, unmasked power shining in the man’s eyes, in his face, in that strong, relentless _will_ etched on those features that seemed to have seen so much and endured so long only for this moment.

“Time… is all… we’ve really got,” he ventured to say, despite the cuts and bruises on his face which made it hard to  move his mouth and jaw in the slightest, even stretch out a tiny syllable for emphasis. “So I… don’t think… there’s anything… that can stop that… from unleashing itself…”

Heldalf looked at him hard, his eyes becoming stony, like lapis lazuli. Arm outstretched, he held out his hand in front of him, whispering a spell that sounded almost familiar…

“Incursus Indeprensus Indidem Almus Vitalis Sanguis!”

Sorey turned his back on Heldalf to shield Mikleo while facing him, both his hands now resting on Mikleo's shoulders as he put his own body in the line of fire directly in front of Heldalf. 

“Don’t… drag… Mikleo… into this… mess. I’m the… only enemy… here…”

“Too late for that. Your seraph is nothing without the power that keeps him alive. And that power is what I need, what I lived for all these empty centuries. And now that I’m given the final chance to wield it, I shall not step back, nor shall I let anyone push me back onto the grave… There’s no freedom greater than the pleasure of banishing what once was, erasing history, every memory that gives pain and useless permanence to the sorrows that should not have been… And that is my sole desire, my one last wish."

Heldalf grunts, his lips thinning into a sad, wan, but hopeful smile that has a tinge of bitterness in it. "Do  not disappoint me yet again, Shepherd. As one who saves, even you must understand that some souls cannot and will never be at peace no matter what you do. And so the only thing left for souls such as ourselves is to give in to our selfish natures and be true to ourselves. And so that is what you’ll give me, Shepherd of the Age of Chaos, the chance to wield the power I seek, even if I have to shatter the Vessel to awaken that power... and to bring fulfillment to my most cherished dream...”

 _Shatter Mikleo?_ As those final words sank into him with the gravity with which Heldalf had spoken them, Sorey felt his heart steeling itself. That this raving lunatic expects him to stand aside and let Mikleo get hurt to fulfill his most precious dream is unbelievable. How much madness does a man need to be filled with such disgusting greed and hate and discontent? Using crafty spells, esoteric words, vague warnings… he should have known better than to use threats like that.

Besides, even if he wasn't certain if he could summon the power of this so-called Shepherd, he wouldn’t stand here and twiddle his thumbs while allowing Heldalf to do as he pleases. Sorey gazed at Mikleo intently, letting his eyes wander toward the coronet. With hesitant fingers, he reached out and touched the jewel on Mikleo's forehead. Standing this close to him, Sorey could see it sparkling with a clear blue flame, like a perfectly cut diamond reflecting a cloudless, summer-blue sky…

But just as the sheen and brilliance of it looked warmly enticing, the feel of it beneath his fingers was cold, numbing… like ice.

_This must be Heldalf’s power…_

_Heldalf…_ Suddenly that name sounded horribly familiar, like a word he had once spoken, somewhere in time… But something more urgent was drawing his attention to the clear blue stone itself…

His fingers felt like they were burning with frozen flames—flames he seemed to have felt and seen before, now lingering on the surface of the jewel. He couldn’t understand why, but he felt a gentle yet insistent pull on his fingers, like _something_ or _someone_ beneath its cold, glassy surface was calling out to him—pulling and leading him toward a place and time that was too far and too vague to remember clearly…

Then something, like a strangling, suffocating sensation began to make itself felt in his throat, in his chest, in his veins, as if trying to squeeze something from him, numbing his hand, his arm as the sensation crawled up to his shoulders…

Mikleo's eyes looked bloodshot…

Sorey caught his breath in his throat. Heldalf’s spell…

“Even Time cannot stop Death from carrying out its will. Even if you offer yourself as a sacrifice, it is only a matter of time before my animus takes every drop of blood that flows and throbs within your mortal flesh…”

Sorey winces as he starts to think of Eizen’s own weapon. “Only Souls-of-Light… should have them…”

“Have they not given you its secret? The true power of an animus only works against its original owner… Hence, the weapons Souls-of-Light use to fight hellions are no different. They’ve been ripped from the Shadow Lords, from the power of the Insidion as I have gained this animus from the seraphim allies you have once surrounded yourself with… All this is possible only as the Heart of the Malevolence decrees it, according to the laws, the covenant it must follow, which you must know by now…”

Sorey didn’t care. He will not lift his fingers from the jewel and let Mikleo suffer this alone.

If nothing else can be done, then he would rather face the end here… with him… with Mikleo…

If he could rewrite this end though, it would have ended with a kiss… with those lavender eyes gazing back at him, looking confused, flustered, doing its best not to look so self-conscious…

Sorey wondered how he could think about those things… then again, maybe that’s just how things should be.

Because memories are all we have left in the end. And with that realization throbbing within him, Sorey braced for the final clash… between powers and truths that have been at war it seems, from the very beginning.

He closed his eyes and whispered…

_The Will and the Word… I need you now…_

_Shepherd Sorey is your name, and I summon you from the Otherworld as my ally…_

Sorey took a moment to breathe in the meaning of those words he had just spoken. He finally understood it or accepted it—those last words he feared acknowledging the most.

_I summon you as my power, my will, my weapon, my soul… as you and everything that you are and were belong to me…_

_As you and I are one and the same being… destined for all eternity to fight this timeless battle…_

_I summon your power here and now…._

_Be my weapon to defeat my enemy and save the one who is dear to us both…_

_Or I shall stand here and watch everything turn to ash and ruin._

_As nothing lives when he—when the one soul that means everything to me—no longer breathes with me…_

_My will is my own. And it lives and dies only for him…_

Sorey didn’t know where his resolve was coming from, but he meant every word of it. And he would never take anything back, even if nothing but doom awaits him should he fail.

Those words that spilled from the cracks of his broken soul, ripped from the agony of so many pained memories vanquished into the deepest corners of his mind… those words were the real Sorey…

And the real Sorey has finally awakened.

And now everything _must_ begin from the beginning that will end it all.

 

**o)------------o)O(o------------(o**

 

 


	9. One Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorey Sheppard found himself caught in a maze of complications that just got even more complicated with the idea of sharing another's intimate private space in unexpected ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long. I hope you guys are still around to read and enjoy. This long fic is like my own tribute to the best couple in anime. I don't think we'd ever find anything or any pair that comes as close to making us fantasize this much and this hard (Hakata Tonkotsu seems a close competition, but it's an entirely different genre...) I'm still hoping that ToZ gets a new anime version or maybe a sequel? Or like a childhood SorMik prequel? Anything about these dorks is just adorable...
> 
> By the way, thanks for the kudos and comments! I deeply appreciate your taking time to read this. I wish I had more time to write, though, 'cause I miss these geeky lovebirds so much already!
> 
> DISCLAIMER: The original story behind Tales of Zestiria and Tales of Zestiria the X belongs to Bandai-Namco and Ufotable respectively. Since the writer makes no profit from this labor of love and, in fact, struggles against shame and hopeless obsession every time she has to write an additional chapter for her self-pleasure and that of others like her, she respectfully makes a plea against any law suit. :D
> 
> Obsession has no shame, by the way. You’ve been warned. ^_^

 

**o)------------o)O(o------------(o**

 

_If I could change the currents of our lives_

_To make the river flow where it’s run dry_

_To be a prodigal of father time_

_Then I would see you tonight_

_If I could find the years that went away_

_Destroying all the cruelty of fate_

_I must believe that love will find a way tonight…_

_Lonely finds me_

_One day you will come_

_But I’ll wait for love’s sake_

_One day to me love_

_If I could see beyond the here and now_

_If you could hear me calling you somehow_

_If I could know that love is reaching out_

_To find you with me tonight..._

_I will stay forever here, until that one day comes_

_Praying time will bring you near_

_I’ll wait for your love…_

 

-originally by **Trading Yesterday** , “One Day”;

cover by **Sorey Sheppard** , from the album **_Now, Here and Nowhere_**

 

**o)------------o)O(o------------(o**

 

Up until now, Sorey had never known darkness to be so blinding when a spark of light suddenly made itself visible a few feet ahead. At first it seemed to be just a tiny, yellow flicker, like a firefly that had taken an uncanny interest in him, flying just between his eyes and on top of his nose until it decided to settle in mid-air just a few feet in front of him and began to glimmer a luminous green, then purple…

Sorey’s eyes widened as the shape grew into something bigger, something human-like—it was difficult to tell from the silhouettes blending into each other under the dim lights. Then it shivered and took on a specific length and contour that apparently looked more familiar and which, to some extent, made him feel less guarded and apprehensive.

Symonne flashed him an iridescent smile as the light around her shimmered and started to fade slowly. “Apologies, Master Shepherd, but I deemed it necessary to cover our scent and tracks by casting a spell. I had to metamorphose as well into something _less_ human in case something gets through my wall of mist. I can’t say I enjoy the disguise of a hellion but… I’m glad you’re finally awake.”

Sorey groaned a sheepish apology, rubbing his eyes with the back of a gloved hand. “Sorry, I must’ve been asleep since we fell… How long have I been out? I could’ve at least tried to help.”

“I’m all right, the spell was easy enough. Does it hurt anywhere?”

Sorey shook his head wordlessly and stood up, dusting his knees out of habit rather than concern. He couldn’t care less if he were all covered in dirt—not when he’s exploring on his own without that seraph _who-would-not-be-named_ warning him of things like Gramps getting mad if they romped in the ruins like kids and came home for dinner looking and smelling like prickleboars who just had a roll in the mud…

Ever since he had used that Gate-weaving arte to enter that Otherworld, Sorey had noticed that his memories had become more vivid, like a lucid dream that kept recurring even during those moments he was awake. Of course, there was no use denying that childhood memories of that particular seraph, _his_ _one and only_ irreplaceable someone, dominated those thoughts. His private, idle daydreams obsessively revolved around memories of _him_ , memories of their life together in Elysia, at a time that had once been called the Age of Chaos before the _Imperial Codex_ decided to rename it as the _Age of Seraphic Heresy_ (a matter of scholastic debate that Sorey refused to dwell on).

To say the least, his preoccupation with thoughts of that bygone age after all these centuries, after Maotelus’s purification, even after the Seraphim Wars, the Age of Empires that followed that—which unified Church and State and boldly outlawed the worship of the seraphim—and likewise, after centuries of strife and calamity that culminated into the _Last Great War_ fought in Camlann (for the _third_ time)... such distractions make him wonder how his mind would latch onto such irreversible tragedies as if in search of a consolation that would always be unreachable... too far and slow by any stretch of the imagination.

He had no reason to complain, of course. While not all memories can be good, some of those were a treasure in themselves, unmatched by anything precious anyone could ever own, even if the gods were to offer him the entire universe as a reward. He could only be grateful he had memories to drive away the exhaustion, the loneliness, even if those same memories made him desperate. He had heard so many times before that seraphic rebirth always entails losing one’s memories of one’s previous existence. Lailah and the others have told him that even their own rebirths must have been governed by the same rules, the same conditions of rebirth.

Sorey could not help but wonder, though, at the logic that has created an exception such as himself. The one-in-a-million chance of a seraph being born with the memories of his past life, of having those same dreams and desires that compel him to re-forge broken bonds and nurture old affections has never been affirmed by any other living proof save him; and for that, he must consider himself either an exceptionally lucky seraph or a dangerous hypothesis. Then again, after having lived so long as to witness the defeat of everything good, the idea of luck had lost its attraction for him.

True, it was hardly luck that destroyed worlds with such systematic cruelty. But when a world has been unlucky for more than ten thousand years, one starts thinking of chance and destiny as evil twins conspiring against all of humanity.  

So that leaves him with the only _other_ presumption: that the Shepherd must be nothing more than a convoluted hypothesis waiting to be tested, just another insignificant possibility among many. He could be nothing more than a metaphysical experiment waiting to fail, something that can be replaced any moment by a theory of law and order or a higher principle that must preserve something more important than his disposable existence.

Irony of ironies, the Shepherd, no matter how ennobled his position may be, could be just another plaything for the ruthlessly divine, to be discarded the moment he outlives his purpose in the grand scheme of things—those hidden truths that can be only be written in the stars.

No wonder modern historians who considered the possibility of him being the same Shepherd who had slept for almost eight hundred years to purify the Malevolence in the world would rather call him an _anomaly._ To them he was nothing more than a freak of nature borne of superstitions propagated by a cult of heretic seraphim worshippers, rather than some hero to be venerated even if only within the scant pages of their history books.

Sorey had to groan at that. _An anomaly... right. Didn't he always say I was weird anyway? That's just about a new level of weirdness, if you ask me._

 _Even as a seraph, I'm like that. No one can define what I am, not even me._  

Then again, if he were to consider the nature of seraphic rebirth as having its own logic, it doesn’t seem surprising that memories come as a price. Seraphim have indefinitely long lifespans, ranging from centuries to several millennia. Forgetting bonds left behind is probably the best way to keep a seraph from the agony of remembering too much, from the desperation of saving priceless treasures that wouldn’t last even a fraction of that new existence.

But again it was shockingly different for him. Not only did he retain human sensations, feelings, likes and dislikes as Lailah presumed stronger seraphim might be able to do; he was able to haul his entire human identity into his rebirth so much so that everything that he was, his entire precious existence as a human, was fused into his seraphic soul and accompanied the consciousness of his second life.

In other words, while his body took on the nature and form of the seraphim, his consciousness remained essentially human, essentially Sorey. Only this time he can use seraphic artes, manipulate three natural elements—earth, wind, and fire—with equal dexterity, and like any other seraph control his growth and aging in a way that allowed him to retain the same physical maturity he has had as the human Shepherd Sorey.

That just about makes him wince. If he was able to defy so many laws and expectations regarding Shepherds and seraphim, then there must be a reason behind his mundane existence that is far more pervasive and compelling than any limitations or preconditions ordained by such laws.

Perhaps he was a compromise, or worse, a taboo yet to trigger some cataclysmic event that could make the stars weep even more bitter tears.

In any case, it isn't entirely clear why he's bothered by the same questions after he had wasted so much time contemplating other things. Maybe because something he has long given up has started to become important again. He need not even think too far and too deep to know the answer to that, but as for the answer to _that_ other question, he was still in the dark.

_Gods, if only anyone would tell me which theory or obssession made me what I am…_

He remembers Lord Ekseo mysteriously telling him that the very nature of his rebirth partakes of a broken vow, a grain of truth that shines through the dark mist of myths and legends. But mysteries half-unspoken, half-asked such as those only make him even more wary to discover answers that only lead to more confusing questions such as... why is he the only one given such a gift, the gift of awakened human memories? If only he could rely on his own truth, his own affirmation, there is no need to hazard a wild, presumptuous guess…

For such things the answer is so achingly simple, simple enough to dwell in the heart of his most secret and sacred truths.  

He has wished for it since that very day he found out he was human. Growing up in Elysia seemed the most natural thing at that time, save that day he found out he wasn’t a seraph—or rather he found out that everybody else wasn’t human. Gramps had to tell him—so did Mason, Natalie, and Melody—that he was different. Humans have shorter life spans, their existence nothing more to the seraphim than a passing dream, a forgettable adventure compared with the centuries that the seraphim have been around to watch fortune and tragedy carve the human world into kingdoms and civilizations. He had felt crushed realizing what that meant, of course. Because it meant leaving behind everything as everyone moved on. It meant watching his own existence dwindle into the shadows even as his precious seraph remained bright and unchanging... flawlessly beautiful, young... and unreachable.

So while both Mikleo and Gramps predicted his leaving Elysia to find his own place among humans, to build a family and live his life the way other humans are supposed to, he made a wish...

He wished to find a way to be one with the seraphim. He knew or rather guessed the ruins would have an answer to all the questions of the universe, and that his own question might have been the kind that a human with the same fondness for the seraphim might have asked before.

Is there a way he could be with the seraphim forever?

He received his answer in a rather startling way. And that was the day Alisha had entered their world, like a herald born to convey to him a secret he could not have guessed himself.

_Please, are you a Shepherd?_

Until now the question nagged at him. Were it not for that question, he would not have found his answer. And if helping one young woman save her world was the key to his own mystery, the answer that he'd been waiting to find, then wouldn’t it be worth the risk, the heartache of momentarily leaving all that was precious and dear to him so he could carve a better path, a more promising future where his dream of co-existence could finally take shape, beyond those words in the dead pages of the Celestial Record?

Even if the cost of that wish was beyond staggering, filled with slow regrets and agonizing choices, he would hold onto that inner hope, forego every comfort, choke up all his wants and needs if only to have that one stupidly stupid, selfish wish come true.

To be born over and over again into a pure, white, untainted world where seraphim and humans may love each other freely and unconditionally…

Without having to rely on the tether of that rare and fragile ability called resonance…

Without the fear of merging inside each other and being absolutely one, of tasting desire for what it is without the pretentious resolve to separate love from lust, or to repress those same emotions any other creature would consider a gift…

Sorey felt his heart quiver. _A love so pure and powerful it hurts as much as it completes you in every way…_

He could remember it vividly, the first time he had wondered about what love really was.

 

_“Gramps, what is love?”_

_“Love?" A deep, penetrating gaze pierces his mist of misgivings. "Isn't that one of the first things I've taught you and Mikleo when you were but babies? So why should you find it a curiosity now, young man?"_

_Sorey feels a slight, nervous panic. "Uh, I have in mind something a little..." he mumbles self-consciously, "a little different, I think."_

_"Well..." The aged seraph pauses in deep thought. "You can say love is always kind and patient, whatever form it takes. It is always protective and happy with the happiness of others. It's something that makes you look to another person's needs as if they are your own, the passion that moves you to change and grow to become his equal and better half, not just to prove your worth, but for the better reason that you acknowledge his existence."_

_Sorey nods quietly though his heart was racing. "Acknowledging that person means accepting your differences for what they are... and making him an inspiration that guides you to your own destination. Am I right, Gramps?"_

_"Indeed. Because that person is a rare and precious gift that completes you.”_

_“I get it now..." he sighs with a satisfied smile. "And that's why I can't figure out how love can be some sort of weapon..."_

_"And exactly who or what gave you that idea?"_

_Sorey squints at the seraph's sharp, inquisitive stare. "Uh, it's actually written on a monolith Mikleo and I've seen the other day. It says 'Love is  a double-edged sword, full of selfish want and desire that kills as much as it gives life.' Even Mikleo can't explain what that word means... that thing the ruins called 'desire' ... I guess it's one of those words that mean more than what they actually say... huh, almost just like Mikleo!" He chuckles but had to stop himself mid-way._

_Zenrus was giving him an odd look._

_"Err... Gramps, maybe you can explain what desire REALLY means?”_

_The godly seraph gave his ear a nasty tweak. "It's ten years too early to be asking that question, idiot!”_

_“Oww, wait! But really, there was that other inscription we found, which says it's some sort of forbidden fruit… that desire is 'a secret seed shared between lovers.' It doesn’t make any sense…”_

_Zenrus seems to have lost his patience. "How many times do I need to caution you, boy? Ruins may be fascinating, but they are not for children to play with, lest it be the early ruin of youth such as yourselves!”_

_“But the ruins can't be wrong either... unless the Celestial Record is lying about all those things in the past!” he complains, emphasizing every syllable as much as he could. “Besides, I just turned thirteen… I read somewhere that it’s old enough for a human-"_

_Zenrus gives him a livid stare beneath bushy brows. “Wisdom and ignorance have nothing to do with age… unless you can show me a rock that’s a thousand years older and smarter than you! Though to be stubborn and not learn from one’s mistakes are  probably much worse.”_

_“My bad but... really…” He found himself almost whining. “You're missing the point, Gramps.”_

_“Sorey…” Zenrus pulls out an inky map showing dotted, intersecting grids that made Sorey dizzy just looking at it. “In the same way we cannot see all the stars in the sky no matter how clear our vision, how deep our knowledge of the science of the universe, we cannot see everything that we need to see even if it’s right in front of us. Even when it comes to ruins, you know better than to trust everything that you see, or traps wouldn’t even work the way they should.”_

_“Talk about traps, just the other day, Mikleo fell into another one—sheesh, he's so bad at it I can't take my eyes off him even for one second! Guess that means I’m WAY better when it comes to—”_

_“—getting Mikleo into trouble, as always.”_

_“Err, can't help it if I do sometimes…” He scratched the back of his head, feeling sheepish but not seriously apologetic._

_"As I was about to say, people who have different ways of seeing, different theories for interpreting the world around them also see different things. It’s not that humans and seraphim don’t see eye to eye… But even among humans, some realities are more apparent than others… just like most humans would never be able to see or appreciate Mikleo the same way you do. Even if they develop the same resonance that you have, they will most likely look at the seraphim differently, the same way you and I and every other seraph here see the same Sorey and Mikleo differently, depending on what side of you we choose to understand or what emotions you care to show us."_

_“So the way I see myself is still different from how you and Mikleo see me?”_

_“Our limitations make us who we are. But it’s also true that those limitations exist only in our minds, and we create them through our thoughts. Yet, precisely for that reason, our true strengths are never so apparent, not even to ourselves even when they seem so..."_

_"Sounds tricky. So... does that mean we can't really know who we truly are?"_

_"More like we need someone else to draw out our strengths, to show us the path to our better selves. And it’s not unlikely that the person around us knows our strengths and weaknesses in a way we would never know or appreciate. It’s even possible that they come up with compromises, in the hope of reaching out or reaching into those parts of ourselves that are hidden from ourselves. But only a true friend can be this kind of support… the only one who can give us the realization we cannot arrive at on our own...”_

_“So… is that why humans can have desire but not the seraphim?”_

_“My boy, I wasn’t even trying to answer that question! As always, your mind can’t let go of that matter even when we’re steering in a completely different direction!”_

_“But, if everyone sees things a little differently than others… if we can’t exactly see the same thing for what it is… then do the seraphim think that having desire will change the way they see the world and make them more human? I mean, could it be that the ruins are trying to tell us that?”_

_Gramps held his chin with a meditative air. “‘I think therefore I am…’ is what the seraphim would say. But ‘I desire therefore I am…’ is what the human heart understands. You will know the truth of this once you reach that age when you start longing for the company of other humans… when you finally leave Elysia to make a man of yourself, to raise your own family in a place you and your children may someday be happy to call your own.”_

_“How come everybody says that, but..." He looks behind him to check if no one else, or rather, if a particular boy was around to hear what he was about to say. “…what if what I really want is… I mean... even if it's true that I might have to leave someday, can’t I… come home to Elysia? Just like that elysalark that fell out of its nest… you told me to put it back, didn’t you?”_

_“Once it grew wings to fly, it flew back to where it truly belonged, didn’t it?”_

_“Exactly! And that’s why there's no way I'd leave you guys for good! My home is here, and I belong right here with—”_

_“You were about to say Mikleo weren’t you, child?”_

_“Uh, I mean… no, is it—” he hesitates, pangs of guilt and anxiety racking his chest like some massive tidal wave, hurting him with every heartbeat. “Honestly Gramps... is it wrong for me to want Mikleo to stay with me forever… just like the way we are now?”_

 

At that time, nothing mattered more than having Zenrus's approval, of having him understand what he felt for Mikleo, even when those feelings were vague and confusing back then. Not knowing the right words to convey such emotions, however, hardly meant that he was less serious or certain about what he truly felt. In fact he was so ridiculously serious about what he felt that questions gnawed at his soul with thoughts like, what if Gramps really gets mad? What if these strange human impulses he’s been having toward Mikleo—no, wait, what impulses? More like, what if Gramps decides that it’s not good for Mikleo to be around him anymore and asks him to keep his distance from now on? Can he really ever endure that? 

No, to be honest, it would hurt way too much… more than losing anyone or anything in the world.

 

_“Seraphim are seraphim,” Gramps said a little sharply but not unpleasantly after that long pause that made Sorey's heart jump out of place and almost forget where it was. “And humans are humans. Seraphim have memories stretching up to centuries… for as long as we live in harmony with nature and the rest of the human world, our survival is assured. Human survival follows a different set of laws. As can be expected, their bodies and souls are different from ours. Such conditions explain the frailty of human life… why human memories never last for so long… or why it is in their nature to forget so easily… even the most important things they hold dear…”_

_“I know we’re different..." Sorey didn't want to sound accusing, but he felt he just needed to say it out in the open as painful as it might sound. It was an honest admission in any case, one that had been bothering him for so long, though he prayed time would make it easier to accept if not forgive._

_"Does it make you angry that such a fact exists?"_

_Sorey had to sigh to that. "It did... maybe... in the beginning. Every time I got hurt and Mikleo had to use his artes to heal me... it made me feel so weak and useless. Every time he says I need to be more careful because humans can die, that I can get hurt really bad or get sick... it... it made me feel a little jealous thinking why can't I be stronger, why can't I be the one Mikleo could depend on? I mean… sure, humans and seraphim are different, and as a human, I don't have the same power or abilities,_ _but Gramps..."_

_He let his voice trail, wondering if he could really say it this time and what Gramps might think of him if he did._

_"Sorey..."_

_"I know... I know that things aren't gonna change just because I want them to but... if seraphim are seraphim, and humans are humans then I am what I am! I don't want to be just like any other human, Gramps, not to you or to Mikleo! I guess what I'm trying to say is, I want to be me... I want to be the human who would cherish this world forever, the kind of human who'd never forget what it's like... to be showered by the seraphim with so much kindness and goodness... enough to make anyone like me want to protect their place in this world..."_

_Zenrus sighs softly, giving Sorey a look etched with the deepest concern. "Happy as I am to hear your thoughts, this you must remember, Sorey: Goodness is not a gift. It is the real nature of all things. Free will did not create evil, but rather through it, we were given the choice to choose between good and evil, to discover the limits of our nature... and to discover and rediscover ourselves so that we may create the conditions of our existence by our own rules though we may suffer for it. In other words, no existence is below anyone else's though in the process of defending our truths, the values we each hold dear... in our struggle to survive to the best of our abilities, we are confronted by conflicts and misunderstandings, not to mention their sad and bitter consequences. That goes for both seraphim and humans..."_

_"Just like you told me and Mikleo before... learning to face death... learning to let go and leave everything and everyone behind... is part of existence itself."_

_"Everything that lives also dies. It alone makes all things equal."_

_"But…" he hesitates, sensing a strange sadness drowning, overtaking him like a giant wave. "... if I have a choice, if I can live my life all over again… I’d choose you and Mikleo… I'd choose to stay here forever with you...”_

_“Freedom is a gift.”_

_“But... this is the place where I truly want to be, Gramps... with everyone else! Maybe to the seraphim I'll never be anything BUT a human, even so..." Lavender eyes flitted into his memory, and suddenly he found his breath hitching. "I promise I won't be a burden! I'll work hard, I'll prove to you and Mikleo that I can protect this domain and everyone in it, even if that means fighting hellions_   _or-or whatever threats come our way! But more than that..."_

_Zenrus gives him a questioning look. Sorey sighs, feeling an oozing warmth suffuse him._

_"I've already made a promise to an important someone... to see the world and explore all the ruins we can find. I don't think there's anything that can make me happier than to be able to fulfill that wish someday."_

_“Hmm… and what does Mikleo say to that?”_

_He remembers catching his breath loud enough to make Gramps edge closer with an expectant look. "I-I'm sure he feels the same... I mean... he loves the ruins as much as I do... uh wait! Did I... I don't think I ever said it was Mikleo, Gramps!"_

_“You didn't have to, boy! But seriously, I would like to know what that other boy had been up to.”_

_Sorey swallows hard. “Look, I know Melody and Mason tease us sometimes, but he-we're... we're not_...  _err, I mean, there's really nothing going on between us, I swear!”_

 

Even back then, he and Mikleo had secrets only for their ears. He couldn’t trust anyone with his thoughts and secret wishes, his fears and hopes for the future. Even as a Shepherd years after that incident, no matter how close he was with Rose, Alisha, or even Lailah, it was only to Mikleo that he could open up and bare his soul. No one else could share that right, that special place that Mikleo had.

It was not surprising then that during those precious childhood days of his, the last thing he wanted was to make Zenrus suspicious of anything.

 

_"Sorey? You're not keeping things from me again, are you?"_

_"Really Gramps, c'mon..." he laughed nervously. "Besides, even Mikleo knows I'm not good with secrets, right?”_

_“That idiot has given you his true name, hasn’t he?”_

_Sorey felt his throat suddenly dry up so that even his cough sounded weak and desperate. “Huh? Uh… is… is that… gonna get Mikleo in trouble?_

_“Answer the question, boy!”_

_“But Gramps… does it even matter? I’m sure it’s… not a big thing, is it?”_

_The sigh he heard was heavy. He would be lying to say it hasn’t bothered him to this day… ignoring small clues, signs of what the meaning might have been even then…_

_“Making a pact with a seraph is no game, you stupid idiots! Vows are to be honored with deep respect and even deeper sacrifices! I’ve already said this more than once…  freedom is a gift. For a seraph to make a pact with a human means to give away that precious gift to someone… someone more precious than your own life… someone who now has a power to decide your fate.”_

_“But why would Mikleo do it? He probably didn’t know and—and if he didn’t, wouldn’t he hate me for it?”_

_“My boy, that should be the least of your worries. A pact is a seraph’s burden to endure… a choice Mikleo would have to live with long after you’re gone… And for someone as conscientious as Mikleo, it is unlikely that he would pursue a course of action without knowing full well its consequences.”_

_“I-I’m… really... it's all my fault, I'm sorry. Just... just please don't let Mikleo get into trouble, please?”_

 

Even now, remorse nagged at him whenever he remembered all those things that were given up for him… all those things beyond redemption. It’s not like all those things made him love Mikleo harder… but rather, it was painful to realize that someone you love must have thought of himself that way… because perhaps you have unwittingly given him reason to believe that loving you means unspoken sacrifices… slow regrets… forgiven disappointments…

But he loved him that way too, didn’t he? In a noble and pure and unconditional way he loved Mikleo. And because of that love, Sorey wanted to change the human world for him…

With the guidance of the Celestial Record, he had wanted to discover the secrets of the ruins hoping that one day he would stumble upon the key to bring back those ancient days when humans and seraphim lived side by side in a free world devoid of prejudice and needless conflict… a life unfettered by misunderstandings, a home with neither tangible nor invisible walls to keep humans and seraphim apart.

A pure, untainted world where Mikleo could be free, where Mikleo could be safe and happy… a world where Mikleo could breathe and smile and laugh again long after Sorey’s human life has been taken from him…

 

_“Gramps…” He must have sighed a hundred times before he found the nerve to speak again. “To be honest, the reason I love reading the Celestial Record is… I want it to be true someday… I want the world in it to be real for Mikleo’s sake. I mean… just imagine if other humans out there can see and hear seraphim, Mikleo would have others to talk to, have fun with and… and he would be able to do things with them the same way he and I—uh—and… and besides… I’m sure they’d realize just how amazing and wonderful Mikleo is! I mean, it’s impossible not to see that, with Mikleo being so brilliant… he’s like a star that shines so bright you can’t look away, he’s just so beaut-i—uh… sheesh, err… I think I kinda lost track just now…”_

_“So you think Mikleo is amazing, eh?”_

_“W-well… he can be annoying sometimes when he treats me like I’m stupid and weak especially when he wins..."_

_"Acting like the older brother maybe... after all you are younger by a year."_

_"But I'm bigger and taller and besides, it's just one year! I don't see how 'being older' should decide who should be protecting who..."_

_“I know, I know, there's no one you care about more than Mikleo, everyone knows that by now. You even tried to write poetry for him… uh let me see… ‘eyes of twilight bright, sparkle in the night/ Thy beauty’s glory, your touch of grace, your skin so smooth and white as ivory makes/Impale my heart with quiet grief and unsung joy/That even if these words can’t reach I must endure…’”_

_“G-gramps!” he stuttered like an idiot, practically showing more guilt than he could hide. “It’s not—I mean, Melody shouldn’t have told you—”_

_“Oh, she didn’t. I arrived at that conclusion on my own when I heard you rehearsing those lines the night before Mikleo’s birthday.”_

 

Sorey has to smile. He remembers muttering _“Oh dear…”_ under his breath the way Melody might have, feeling for the first time the whole meaning of _shame_ , and the importance of learning the difference between telling lies and keeping secrets. Both may serve to hide precious truths, but there are skills to it that needs both aptitude and a denial of conscience. One could never be bad at both, well at least he prayed he wasn't. 

 

_“I was looking forward to you reading it that evening when you two were sitting by yourselves on the cliff-side stargazing… But I guess you were too shy to pursue the thought.”_

_“Jeez, Gramps… so I guess you were close by watching us, huh?”_

_“You bet, is what humans would say. Quite honestly, everybody else was wondering if you’d be able to do it or not.”_

_“G-Gramps! Y-you’re—you’re NOT saying every—everyone was—oh sheesh—” He looked down at his feet, unable or unwilling to show his real feelings. “You aren’t gonna tell Mikleo, right?”_

_“You want me to?”_

_“No, hell no, please!”_

_“Sorey… it’s not like you can keep your thoughts a secret forever.”_

_“I was hoping to keep it from you and everybody else… Uh-no-what I mean is... oh whatever…”_

_“Better luck next time, Sorey.” Instead of anger, there was the slightest hint of amusement curling the old seraph’s lips into a silent chuckle._

_Sorey breathed a sigh, showing how much that relieved him to some extent. “To be honest, I was kinda hoping Mikleo’d figure everything out on his own. But… but still… it’s so… embarrassing! And knowing him, he won’t like it, he’ll get mad and give me the cold shoulder for a week! No, make that forever..."_

_“At least the boy doesn’t have any bite in him, does he?”_

_“B-bite? W-what do you mean—eehhh? Mikleo and I—we’re not even doing things like that—well, not yet but—uh—I mean… I was hoping… nah, it's just… sheesh… it’s too embarrassing to tell anyone!”_

_“Idiot! Suppose you finish what you were about to say so I can figure out what you two are really up to!”_

_He scratches his cheek just to distract from the furious rush of heat to his face. “But… that’s… uh, what secrets are for, isn’t it?”_

_"And you're no good with secrets, isn't that what you just said, young man?"_

_"Well..." He gave Gramps one of his lopsided grins, trying his best to look innocent despite the scrutinizing stare he was getting. "I do try to get away with one or two. For Mikleo's sake."_

_"Idiot, so now you're admitting it?"_

_“What secrets? Sorey?”_

_The voice came from behind, not a few steps from where he stood. Suddenly the soundless, graceful movement of those nimble feet were quite enough to make his stomach stir and flutter as if a million, excited butterflies have just settled on it._

_“M-Mikleo!”_

_Arms akimbo in that typical gesture meant to hide the gentler, softer side to him, Mikleo strode toward him with small, careful steps. “I came by just to tell Gramps that I’m done with my errands. But boy, aren’t you looking a bit cheeky today! Which reminds me, what are you hanging around here for? Did you get into trouble again?”_

_As usual, Mikleo’s greeting was meant to ruffle his feathers._

_“Hey, be nice.”_

_“I am. But aren’t you forgetting something important?”_

_“Huh?”_

_“Good grief, don’t tell me you forgot that today is the day Mason is supposed to teach you how to milk goats and make cheese and yogurt from it?”_

_“Uh-oh-yeah, right you are, Mikleo! Thanks for the reminder!”_

_“H-hey, not so fast! You still haven’t answered my question—about those secrets you were planning on telling Gramps, I believe…”_

_“W-what secrets?” Sorey knew, even back then, that he wasn’t fooling anyone—not Mikleo by a long shot. The beautiful seraph was just too smart for his own good._

_“Don’t even try covering it up, Sorey! Everyone knows you can hardly come up with a decent lie even if to save your own skin!”_

_“Th-that’s not true!”_

_“See? Even a simple denial makes you stutter so obviously. You’re pretty hopeless.”_

_“Sh-shut up!” He started walking toward the door in quick, easy strides that became a run as soon as he sensed Mikleo coming after him._

_“H-hey, no fair! You’re NOT gonna get away from me that easily this time! Sorey!”_

 

Thousands of years into the present, his current self still could not let go of those words. _There’s no way I could ever get away, Mikleo, do you know that?_

Sorey found his chest hurting that same way. Involuntarily, he clenched his fist over it as if to keep his heart from racing out of bounds.

_‘Cause you’re worse than gravity…_

_You pull me in without even trying…_

The thought surprises him but not unpleasantly. Yet the accompanying feelings are an entirely different matter. Sorey knows that thinking about _him_ —his one and only reason—leads to just another blind street, a narrow maze of dead ends. _Here I go again_ , and this time he really shakes his head.

Nostalgia is the language of the mind that has never moved on. Some vague part of him wished he didn’t remember too much.

Symonne approached from behind hesitantly, a small white flame bobbing in front of her to light the darkness. Sorey caught the flickering outline of the sputtering, shuddering flame from the edge of his vision as Symonne held it on the palm of her hand before releasing it.

The ball of light danced around her before floating steadily just above her shoulder. Sorey was almost thankful for the distraction even if it was just as brief and quickly forgotten.

Symonne gave him a wan smile. “This one we crashed into,” she looked down at her feet, onto crumbled rock and slate that formed part of the rubble that came down with their fall. “There must be hundreds of hidden tunnels around here that lead to hidden caverns like this one. If the architect intended these secret passageways to mislead intruders, there must be traps carefully hidden everywhere around here… just like the one that got us.”

Sorey could still feel the soft earth under his knee as he reached down to rub a little dirt between fingertips. Symonne watched him curiously.

“The air isn’t too damp nor the soil too clammy with moisture either. There must be some ventilation high up in the ceiling… Maybe in the day there’s just about enough light passing through those cracks that may tell us how far up these walls go…”

Symonne looked up thoughtfully. “Unfortunately, my light can’t fly that high up without consuming more mana than necessary... enough to arouse hellions.”

“I wouldn’t risk it either.” Sorey stretched to his full height, following her gaze. “Even if I could hardly tell what time of day it is…”

Symonne looks at him. “It’s almost morning—about dawn at least—from the way it sounds.”

“Y-you can hear through these walls?”

She averts her gaze, unable to stare too deep into those emerald eyes that sparkled beautifully with the brilliant flames reflected in them.

“We’re not too far from the surface, and my hearing is sensitive to vibrations of any kind. Certain nocturnal insects, for example, burrow back into the ground after hunting and feeding on the surface for hours. It’s quite easy to pick up the tiny noises they make if you know what you’re listening for…”

“Amazing. Reminds me of a particular wind seraph I know…”

Symonne felt something warm traveling up her fingertips. The ball of light sputtered and flared a deep orange for a moment before receding into its usual color. Sorey raised an eyebrow, but Symonne merely shrugged off his curiosity.

“My control is fine. It just does that sometimes.”

Sorey scratched his cheek. “Uh, it's all right."

Symonne looked wary. "It seems you have something on your mind."

"Nothing, it's just that..." Sorey struggled whether or not to continue. "For a moment there you almost sound like a certain earth seraph I—uh—I mean—” Sorey’s smile almost cracked. “Never mind. Forget what I said.”

Symonne tried not to look too surprised at that. It was the first time she has heard the Shepherd make references to his personal history without looking strangely upset or downcast. She found her eyes lingering on her feet again.

“Something the matter?” The Shepherd’s voice broke through her thoughts.

Emerald-green eyes bore into her with a quizzical look, and Symonne almost found it painful not to look back.  “I… wanted to explore this cave a bit more… to see if we could find more clues about the sacred altar you were looking for. But when I saw you lying so still I… I thought…”

Sorey waved a hand at her. “Sorry. I must’ve looked quite a scare.”

“That’s not it, I—” For a second she wondered why she felt like stopping in mid-sentence. Was there something wrong in what she was about to say, or was she afraid of what he might think if she actually said what she wanted to say?

 _But is there any other meaning that I could’ve conveyed using such words?_ Muddled by her own thoughts and the stare she was getting, Symonne exhaled sharply—far more soundly than she would have liked. “I would’ve panicked if you were seriously injured but then, I realized you must be half-awake…”

Sorey raised an eyebrow. “Uh, I really appreciate the fact you’re worrying about me, but is that really necessary? I mean, you know that as a seraph…”

Symonne looked away. “You were dreaming… ”

Emerald eyes widened in confusion. Sorey tried to swallow down an awkward laugh. “Are you sure—I mean—is that even possible in this kind of situa—wait—what do you—you saw—” Emerald eyes looked unsettled, almost shocked as the question slipped out unfinished and full of frightened misgivings. 

Symonne started shaking her head before he could even punctuate that. “You were mumbling—no, sort of whispering something…”

 _G-gods was I even that—that embarrassing?_ Sorey felt his heart pull at his throat and wondered why he couldn’t stop thinking about which dream it was without stuttering inside his head. True his dreams often border into nightmares, but that doesn’t mean that he never had more intimate ones as well. Sorey found his neck warming at the thought of his fingers plying Mikleo’s white skin, exploring with his hungry mouth those places he would stutter to name…

Kissing must be the height of human joy if he could call it that. Just thinking about it burned his lips, his lower limbs into a scarlet shiver that was making him weak in the knees.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, my lord. You did nothing wrong.”

Sorey’s breathing hitched. That almost sounded funny. He managed a modest chuckle.

“To be honest, sometimes I don’t even remember what I—” He stopped. A spark of memory flitted into his mind and Sorey found his breath catching. “Oh. It was _that_ I guess…”

Symonne nodded. “You were calling out to _him_. But this time you didn’t cry out as badly as you did before—that time as you were sleeping next to me. I was more worried back then.”

 _Eehh? I—we… slept together? Before?_ Even when he didn’t care to voice those misgivings, he must have had such a horrified, panic-stricken expression on his face that Symonne found herself looking away, stumbling for words to rectify an apparent misunderstanding.

“Uh, I was referring to that night… when we were stranded on a snowstorm on Heimdall Peaks just after meeting with the North King’s Mage Council for the signing of the Eleven-year Truce. We refused the accommodations of the Palace but neither did we have money for an inn, and you were running a fever in the middle of a snowstorm. While we were braving a narrow mountain pass on horseback you fell unconscious. I had to pull you into a temporary shelter in some ruins I found along the way by accident. And we stayed there for two nights until you were fit to ride a horse again.”

Sorey sighed. Seraphim are supposed to be immune to infections and diseases that human bodies are prone to, except when the affliction is caused by a strong strain of Malevolence... or what humans identified with curses and the workings of witchcraft. As for the political side of the matter, he could only sigh at the many unfortunate incidents summoned by the memory of it.

Without needless exaggeration, the _Eleven-year Truce_ was easily one of human history’s worst failures in the effort to end the bitter war between Heimdall and Glenwood—or rather between the Northern and Southern Kingdoms. Not that he or the neutral parties to the peace efforts had high expectations of the outcome when there is little to trust in the politics of vain-glorious kings and religious leaders who proclaim their good intentions a little too loudly.

After all, when much is said much is desired, and much is corrupted. Peace too easily becomes an empty declaration of conscience, nothing more than a contract of broken promises signed with good intentions.

And wars leave much to be remembered because humans have a penchant for repeating mistakes rather than learning from them.

Back in those days when he was but an ordinary human boy living among the seraphim in Elysia, Gramps would always tell him that things learned well are remembered best. Stubbornly, he answered back that it is way easier to remember things you’re afraid of forgetting.

Like things you can’t afford to lose. Or things that can’t be replaced…

As for _other_ things, time is a ruthless killer. The mind can only save so much, so many, or nothing but a few. Some memories have shorter shelf-lives than others. Most simply die a natural death… And some, out of desperation, live on, survive, in the darkest, loneliest corners of the world, spurned into malevolent energies that taint everything that exists.

Love also creates malevolence--forbidden loves and lusts that easily turn into frustration and hate.

Sorey was reminded of Lailah’s oath, which speaks of a secret truth that should never be uttered. And it had to do with a certain Shepherd who could have done more if he hadn’t made that one mistake: he had loved his Prime Lord in a way that could have never been allowed by the laws of the seraphim…

True, marriage was once permitted between Shepherds and other humans, but even such marriages were frighteningly tragic. Among other things, relationships for the likes of them entailed only such things as separation, loneliness, and pain. For every battle and confrontation compels Shepherds to fight with their all, to put their lives on the line.

Eventually, they had to face the fact that human life is frail, that power is not enough to change the course of human destiny, that human beings are neither invincible nor immortal. Countless fallen comrades had abandoned their loved ones at death’s door, unable to protect them or themselves. Shepherds had, in fact, become more vulnerable than others, exposed as they were to every calamity and disease that existed.

Sorey clenched his fists. As he had learned himself, heroism makes no room for personal bonds…

Like the power of love, the power of ambition and resolve is just as… selfish. 

Sorey knew he was far too naïve to understand _then_ what being a Shepherd entailed. It was only after centuries of studying the ruins of the world, of unearthing the secrets of the past that he came to realize what being a Shepherd truly meant.

That being a Shepherd is no temporary mission.

It is not some occupation or hobby you can relinquish after the battle.

Being a Shepherd means eternal sacrifices. It means forsaking personal wishes and dreams for the sake of a higher, greater good…

But that is _not_ how he wanted it to be for any Shepherd or seraph…

Sorey knew his newfound belief borders on heresy but… even if it means sacrificing himself to that kind of one-sided relationship, even if it means dissolving, melting away those compulsions that can neither be received nor returned, he will _never_ take back his wish.

He wouldn’t want to give up to desperation the way Michael and countless other Shepherds like him did… including Rose… who loved both Dezel… and Alisha.

And part of his wish is to want Mikleo to live and love freely.

No matter what, Mikleo must live—even if that choice is something Mikleo wouldn’t choose for himself because he could never be so selfish as to wish it.

Sorey wanted nothing more than to let Mikleo live on even if it means forgetting the one who lives _only for him_.

Because that is how he loves him… the only way he knows how to love the one and only treasure he has ever had.      

A shimmer of light seemed to respond to his declaration.

“Symonne?”

Symmone noticed it too and jumped in front of him, her arm crossing her chest in a fluid, defensive motion that characterized the typical attack position for casting arte spells. “I know. Do not come near it.”

“But I…” Sorey took a step toward it, as if his feet willingly wanted him to move. “I don’t sense any danger…”

“Deception does that. We are in the territory of hellions. Let’s not take things for granted.”

As if to taunt that realization, the shimmering glow became more radiant, like an effervescent silhouette pushing aside the slithering shadows that cowered above it. But when the amorphous shape finally solidified and became more apparent, Sorey found his breath hitch, felt his chest spasm with a harsh, pounding beat.  

No, not even miracles can make _that_ happen, not in a world that has already been forsaken by everything good. But then again, he would be the last person _not_ to know, not to recognize something so close to the soul it hurts. True, from where he and Symonne stood, the crouched form hardly looked like the same seraph Sorey would know even from a distance, since the figure wasn’t donned in the same pristine-white and aquamarine garments that had been etched in his memory. But even so, Sorey could sense the same aura, the same signature of spiritual energy that would always call out to him no matter where or how far _he_ may be...

Sorey paused in mid-step, afraid that if he came too near the image, doubt it even the slightest, it would vanish into thin air, leaving him with the bitter after-feel of another could’ve been. But even in doubting, he found his heart yearning to run away with his feet and his mind toward that imagined apparition more beautiful than any truth, more apparent than any knowledge he had come to value all these centuries of searching and hoping against hope.

The slender shape of him lying there in a crumpled heap was clothed in similar garments he had seen people wear in that Otherworld not so long ago.

_If so, then he must have…_

Sorey gathered his courage and ran, almost stumbling upon rock and debris as he did, it was dark after all.

Symonne gave a slight sound as if to issue a desperate warning, but Sorey would have been blind and deaf to anything else anyway.

He knelt beside the immobile form, keeping his distance even when he let his hand involuntarily reach out only to hover in the empty space between their bodies. His chest felt hot and heavy and his heart kept skipping beats. But for some reason the urgency and the anxiety was keeping even the slightest tip of his index finger from touching the cheek that looked so smooth and pale under the ball of light that bobbed slightly over and above his left shoulder with a seemingly hesitant and curious rhythm.

Sorey achingly held his breath as he let his finger graze the skin beneath it with a soft, tentative touch. Just a little above his shoulder Symonne’s orb of light hovered like a flightless bird against the curtain of shadows skimming the slanted cave walls. Symonne looked up as a star-like glitter caught her eye. It was hard to tell whether it was the lonely sparkle of a star set high upon the heavens or if it was just some extraordinarily brilliant, semi-precious stone embedded on the rock ceiling of the cave.

In the dimness, it was not strange that the jewel-like spark caught her attention. Perhaps the Shepherd has noticed it as well—on those rare occasions that he allowed her to accompany him through the old routes around the ruins of cities and castles where the old kingdoms once stood, she discovered his knack for details and curiosities that would almost always find their way into his journals and collection of ruin treasures. It was not surprising that his natural scent seemed to her somewhat redolent of the fragrance of mountain grass, parchment paper and fresh ink—a mixture of musk, wood, mint, and spice (for ink is a valuable extract derived from the dark sap of the Rumelia plant, the seeds of which are a rare cooking ingredient, valued for its strong yet unique flavor). 

Stealing a glance at the Shepherd’s profile and seeing him restlessly distracted by something else, Symonne couldn’t help but frown. Despite her usual indifference to the Shepherd’s momentary flights of interest (for it seems to be an explorer’s habit to find something exciting in the benign and ordinary), she vaguely wondered why her skin bristled as if something unexpected had just grazed it. The ball of light trembled with a slight quiver, then like a ball dropped short of a few feet off the ground before stopping in mid-fall.

Self-consciously, Symonne cast a nervous look at Sorey, balancing the ball of light a few inches from her upturned palm.

But Sorey hardly observed anything but the form that lay before him barely a foot away. Though there was no confirmation yet, the scent and proximity of it was enough to freeze his blood, making his body feel rigid and cold and hard as wood.

And yet, and yet his cheeks felt flushed and warm, almost hot, the sensation slowly flooding his body with a heated anxiety and agitation that was making his knees so weak and unsteady beneath him.

He inhaled sharply. No, he could _never_ be wrong about this… about _him_ …

He had wanted to say his name for so long it hurts to say it now.

His breath quivered like a desperate prayer as his fingers slowly, tentatively reached out to touch the illusion. _M-Mikleo…_

Sorey held his breath. The slightest sensation of skin beneath his fingertips felt warm, familiar. No, he could never _ever_ be wrong about this.

The only question is how and why…

Something caught in his throat, and though it was his own voice, it sounded strange, like a choked whisper that was almost afraid. “Mikleo… gods… is… is it really you?”

The body moved, turning slowly, eyelids fluttering slightly only to remain closed. Mikleo was hardly awake, barely moving with the quiet pulse of his breathing, yet Sorey was certain…

This is Mikleo and he is alive.

Sorey flicked the stray strands of hair that covered Mikleo’s forehead. He gasped.

The hard, blue stone of that familiar coronet stared back with unflinching clarity, breaking through those walls of doubt and uncertainty that would have kept Sorey in control and far away. But that was impossible now. He could hardly keep himself calm as his body leaned forward on its own, arms reaching out to hold Mikleo by the nape of his neck. With a swift, fluid motion Sorey lifted Mikleo’s upper body gently so he could press him to his chest and sweep him off the ground and into his arms.

 _I-I can’t believe this..._ _Mikleo… it's you... it's really you, isn't it?_

Sorey felt tears that he didn’t know had started flowing. He pressed his cheek to Mikleo’s chest listening for a heartbeat, then wrapped his arms around Miklo’s waist, huddling closer to him as he lifted him off the ground gently, effortlessly, his eyes never leaving Mikleo’s face.

_It's been so long and I’ve missed you… and I-I couldn’t say anything back then but… you understand don't you?_

_I've never wanted us to be separated, but there was no other way to save you..._

_In my heart, I’ve always wanted you, needed you… and_ _it’s worse than death… living without you!_

Suddenly, there was Symonne standing next to him, her voice so close to his ear. “My lord… of all tricks this one could be—”

“Symonne…” Sorey did not have a hand to wipe away the tears, but more so because of it, he felt awkward attempting a smile, even when he could hardly face Symonne with all his feelings in the open. “It’s all right.”

It sounded more like a plea than a reassurance. Symonne huffed with the slightest intake of breath. “But Master Shepherd…”

“I’m all right,” Sorey found his voice cracking, even though it was barely a whisper in the dark. “What we need to do right now is to get out of here before we run into wraiths and hellions. Besides… I still need to check for injuries.”

Symonne knew without Sorey saying it that he must be referring to the water seraph sleeping in his arms. Though he looked unhurt, she could feel the intense concern and worry etched in Sorey’s quiet features as he cast a fond, tender look at the boy who looked so small and fragile given Sorey’s muscular breadth.  

Symonne finds herself averting her gaze as Sorey lets his gaze linger too long on the silent sleeper’s face. The orb hanging above them cast flickers of pale light on the water seraph’s porcelain skin, suffusing it with a soft, ethereal glow that made those features look even more radiant, beautiful.

Her own pulse quickened. Symonne had not seen anything more flawlessly perfect, incomparable to anything she had ever seen. If beauty alone could move hearts, it wouldn’t be surprising why Sorey seemed so mesmerized. But there must be something more to that, she could tell, by the way Sorey’s lips curved into a bitter-sweet, almost agonizing smile. She felt his feelings billow like a tumultuous wave caught between too much joy and fear, too much love and regret. Beneath that smile was a confusion of thoughts and feelings pushing and pulling back, wanting to give in yet resist, aching to surrender while holding itself back.

But pulsating, vibrating through it all is an urge even more powerful, compelling, which Symonne had never felt before. If such is what humans call desire or love, or both, then for certain such emotions must be held at bay.

The intensity of that need, that want was like a crushing, swelling, heaving surge of mana that could burst and shatter anything without inhibitions.

It almost… no… she couldn’t be wrong. It felt no different from the Malevolence itself...  

Symonne laid a tentative hand on Sorey’s shoulder, braving to say those words. “Master, I think it best we move. Let me use a shield as well…”

Sorey could guess what she meant. Shields are useful in suppressing energies that carry strong spiritual signatures, the kind that might trigger earth pulses beneath and stir up hellions and other forces of nature that are connected to such pulses.

In fact those earth pulses are like heartbeats unifying each organ, each creature, each part of the Malevolence. Strong, vibrant passions are like tides that move along such heartbeats, rising and falling with the pull and push of the Malevolence. Therefore, Symonne must have felt it too.

His passion, his want and need. Sorey felt a thread of fear run through him again. The desire that connects him to Mikleo is refusing to calm down, swelling with a need to be released. Even his conscious reflexes seemed submissive to it, accepting the warmth of that overflowing energy with nothing but the compulsion to enjoy it, to let the pleasure swallow him whole.

In a different body that is no longer human, his human mind understood what it wanted and was projecting that want onto a body that knows and admits neither limitations nor obstacles.

In other words, his body right now is going through the motions of desire that for humans, is possible only during the act of lovemaking.

It is by the same process that mating between hellions and seraphim becomes possible without any need for physical connection or intimacy.

Sorey’s entire body felt like a taut wire about to reach its breaking point. Recognizing the danger, he exhaled briefly and closed his eyes, letting his mind reach for the conduits of spiritual energy pulsing within him. It would take every amount of self-control and resolve to overflow those heated channels with a neutralizing _mana_ , an anti-element that reverses and disrupts the spiritual flow circulating in those channels. Sorey’s concentration rarely fails him during these episodes when he needed to regulate his mana and avoid needless damage during attacks. But now, that concentration seemed barely able to contain the excess flow of mana that was leaking out of him at an alarming rate.

“My lord, it’s not—”   

“I know,” Sorey exhaled, looking frustrated. “You're right, using a shield may be the best chance we've got. I guess I'm just worried as to how it might affect Mikleo, like how his body might react to anything unfamiliar.”

Symonne felt his panic and knew what was causing it. Still, she found herself growing a little impatient. “If there are hellions anywhere close, they will certainly be drawn by the lure of such powerful mana. Given the possibilities of an attack, wouldn’t a shield be worth the risk as neither of us can handle more than a dozen if we have  _him_ to protect as well?”

That almost sounded harsh. But the unspoken truth is... she herself is _not_ immune to the seduction of _that_ kind of mana leaking from the Shepherd that has a tendency to disrupt all senses, filling one with nothing but the compulsion to ravage, to feed on the lustful energy.

“Besides…” Symonne tried to sound earnest, casting a quick glance at the boy in Sorey’s arms. “He looks just fine.”

Sorey fondly smiles. “I hope he is. It’s rare to see him so peaceful… just like this…”

A faint howl seemed to echo from the deeper caverns ahead of them.

“Master…” This time Symonne’s voice sounded more urgent. “Humans as much as seraphim have a scent my kind can easily pick up miles away—with the misfortune that wraiths and hellions can sense as much, even more. And to think that we are _not_ exactly in a place that’s beyond their reach, as Camoria is but a few miles from their hunting grounds. Even without your mana leaking this much…”

Sorey exhaled deeply, a little harshly. “Sorry, I almost forgot about that.”

Symonne felt the need to say more, suddenly aware of the awkward silence. “It would make sense that the location of something so important to seraphim be anywhere in these places. Without a doubt these tunnels even served as breeding and hatching lairs for hellions during those seasons that they are known to mate… If that is the case, it would not be unlikely that the Shadowlords wanted these caverns to be carefully guarded. And it would be unnecessarily risky to have to battle hellions at a time when they’re in the peak of their heat. On such unfortunate occasions, their hunger and predatory instincts border on insanity.”

Despite the warning Sorey found himself smiling a little, not knowing how the faint light dusting his cheeks illuminated that smile in ways that made Symonne catch her breath so painfully between her throat and her heart.

“M-m’lord?”

Sorey grinned, closing his eyes with a shuddering breath. “This sounds strange but… without you, I might start thinking I’ve really lost my mind.”

Symonne felt flustered. “You are thanking me, my lord?”

Sorey smiled a bit more generously. “Yeah, I guess I am! I mean, if you’re certain Mikleo’s real enough to attract hellions, then I know I’m very much awake… and he’s really here, I’m not—I’m not just seeing things...”

Symonne could not help but stare as the Shepherd carefully, gently adjusted his arm around the sleeping form of the water seraph, cradling the unconscious heap in his arms with a protectiveness she had never seen before.

Sorey regretted having to look away from Mikleo even for a second. “So, the only thing left for us to do is to get out of here.”

“Yes, that’s right,” she affirmed but found herself flinching at the Shepherd’s decisiveness. Not that it was out of character, but rather it was almost nostalgic…

Like the old Shepherd she had known and fought back in the Age of Chaos when she still belonged to her former master, the Lord of Calamity, is rising again before her very eyes, out of the ashes of a past she has grown indifferent to.

That indifference is not making this scene, however, any less interesting…

She felt her chest prick. Her human heart, her human mind is taking this all in with a certain mood she has only been remotely aware of.

Then again, it is possible that this sudden, heavy feeling in her chest is nothing more than the side-effect of those healing potions Lord Uno recommended for her to take to prolong the lifespan of her borrowed human body. So frail this hollowed flesh seems to be, so weak and fragile and corruptible… and yet, to her it was exactly this reason which made it so rare and precious, more attractive than a pure hellion’s immortal shell…

She caught the Shepherd gazing at the human form in his arms with an expression she had never seen him wear, even _that time_ she transformed herself into that particular seraph for his sake.

Symonne found her hand snaking onto the low neckline of her usual, purple garb, found it following the pull of her heartbeat.   

_It… really… hurts…_

“Symonne.”

She flinched slightly, caught off-guard by the quiet voice that spoke her name. She took a step forward, carefully keeping her distance from her master for what reason she could not quite fathom.

“M’ lord?”

“I need you to find an exit. Once we get out of these caverns, we'll head straight for the the nearest guild from here. I'll send a message to the Guild Masters just so they know what's going on. The rest is something I might be able to figure out as soon as we find a safer place for hiding."

Symonne stared down at her feet. Of course the Shepherd would be concerned about _him_. She found her hand going to her chest to still something there that was beginning to be a bother. Something doesn’t feel right inside this body somehow, but she can’t quite put a name to it. What's certain is that the strange sensation is too distracting for comfort, making her want to pull out something from her chest, to pluck out that disturbing rhythm so she could think…

“Symonne?” Sorey apparently notices her apprehensive mood. “Are—you—is there something wrong?”

Of course there is, but Symonne knew better than to voice it. She shrugged off her discomfort and focused on the darkness spread out before them, favouring the eastern side of the caverns where the walls looked steeper. “Camoria’s caves have exits facing the south and east side of these mountains. But…”

She felt something else, a thread of energy that seemed to flicker faintly, like a dying pulse. “Master, aren’t we forgetting the sacred altar, the Holy of Holies? You said it cannot be too far from here. After all, that incantation we’ve just discovered…”

Sorey must have felt it too, but he was not willing to risk following his impulse for the chance to escape to safety. He didn’t have to hide the fact that his decision is based on the presence of the water seraph in his arms rather than the logic of what he had planned on doing from the very start.

“I know what you mean, Symonne, but I’m more concerned with getting as far away from here as possible. Right now, I sense something in these caverns I can’t quite explain. It’s almost…” Sorey blinked, hearing his old fears whisper back warnings and threats almost forgotten from _that_ time.

It feels like an old enemy… a very, _very_ old enemy is lingering, watching him from an uncertain distance.

Deny as he might, he had never felt like this for a long time, not since Heldalf…

He pressed Mikleo closer to him, as if an insurmountable threat was about to snatch him away again. “It's too risky. Right now, having Mi-I mean... with him here, there's the possibility that the Shadowlords have already sensed his presence. He needs to be safe first… I guess we all do at the moment.”

“Forgive my suspicions, but we’re not even certain about-“

“Symonne…” This time she had to look up. The Shepherd spoke to her in that same soft, almost friendly kind of voice she had grown accustomed to through the centuries they’ve been together…

For two thousand years it has always been just the two of them… of course there had been others such as Guild Masters Uno, Pawan, and Ekseo… not to mention those other half-hellion half-seraphim sentinels who served them and worked with them but…

She has always been by _her_ Shepherd’s side no matter the occasion. They’ve traveled through distant regions and continents, mapped the caverns of the deepest netherworlds where the most fascinating yet treacherous ruins have been hidden. They’ve shared too many walking days and nights stalking constant dangers and unnecessary risks to body and soul. And it’s been that way for a long time... far too long for her to get used to even the slightest changes…

She watched as the Shepherd’s eyes hovered over the silent, sleeping silver-haired boy in his arms whose head lay cushioned on his broad chest, tucked slightly beneath the folds of his almost tattered cloak.

She couldn’t help but liken the figure to a wounded, helpless elysalark she had seen the Shepherd carry into their shelter not so long ago. It was so like her master to pamper the hurt and the weak too much to the point of absurdity it seems… to the point of needless affection.  

Except this time there was just the slightest hint of shyness in the way his eyes grew languid when he spoke. Symonne couldn’t help looking even if she was hurting somehow.

Sorey smiled wanly, eyes filled with guarded fear. Symonne felt her breath catch.

“I know it’s not safe to speak his name here or to reveal my true feelings at the moment,” Sorey told her, heaving a sigh. “And I won’t deny either that I don’t understand any of this… why he’s here, how he got here or who’s responsible for bringing him here…”

Symonne caught the slow, restless smile grow wider, almost cheerful in an honest way she had not seen all these two thousand years. Sorey chuckled. “But I would be lying if I can’t admit to myself how happy I am to see him again… And right or wrong all I want is to find a place where I can be sure he’s protected. Until then…”

Symonne heard him pull his breath, sensed the former Shepherd's struggle to find words to convey his meaning. She noticed the way his fingers tightened their hold, his gaze lingering on the upturned face that caught the flickers of light beautifully, to illuminate features that no doubt had drawn many eyes to it before.

To her, that quiet gaze seemed nostalgic enough. It reminded her of so many desperate joys that tried to outlive death itself, those she had seen on the faces of many battle-worn knights, who after losing everything there was to lose, had finally earned their right to go home.

But something about the comparison seemed shallow and misplaced. Maybe it was the smile on the Shepherd's face... or the hint of joy in those eyes that seemed able to accept and forgive everything.    

“Until he’s perfectly safe," Sorey finally spoke, breaking the silence. "I’m afraid I won’t be able to think of anything else…”

Symonne felt a surge of protest rise within her. “Master…

Sorey smiled embarrassingly, trying not to laugh. “I know I shouldn't be acting so carelessly in such a dangerous place as this, that's why I'm just glad I have you to depend on. I’m going to need your help to get us out of here, so please, don't hesitate to let me know what you think.”

She averted her gaze, wondering why her shoulders felt heavy. “My artes are meant for your well-being, my lord. Who am I to refuse?”

“Thanks," Sorey found himself smiling. "I’m gonna make it up to you someday, I promise. I know I owe you a lot more than I could count.”

Symonne turned away, feeling her heart race at those words. She looked to her left and pushed the orb of light further away into the caverns to light the darkness ahead of them. “This way, Master Shepherd. I could sense a tunnel up close that may lead us out the south side of this chain of caverns…”

“The south side…” Sorey looked meditative all of a sudden, but even from behind, Symonne could observe how his gaze barely shifted away from the boy’s face. “So you think it best to avoid the Valley of Wells and instead head for the Marsh of Mythosia?”

Those places have far more ancient names that can be seen in the old maps. The Guild Masters, however, had thought of re-naming these places to keep their locations and favored routes a secret from the spies of the Shadowlords.

“Aye. That’s south from here and so far a much better alternative than leaving through the east side. If you recall our previous travels, the Valley of Wells lies on the eastern side of Camoria, a course that is treacherously steep and deceptively winding. We cannot afford to stop at any point if we are pursued, though its narrow tunnels may offer escape and temporary shelter.”

“Right,” Sorey thought briefly, remembering an adventure he has almost completely forgotten.

"Besides, if there's anything hellions and wraiths find intolerable, it's the smell of their own reeking stench."

Sorey nodded. He knew how thick the miasma could get in and around wetlands and marshes. Symonne's idea isn't bad at all. 

He gave Symonne one of his agreeable smiles. “Go right ahead then, we’ll follow your lead.”

Symonne expected the resolve but not the expression. She couldn't help frowning. _We…?_

“Uh, and about the Altar of the Holy of Holies... " Sorey added, in a tone that was brimming with renewed confidence. "I’m never giving up on that, not when I know we’re so close to finding that one hope we’ve been praying for. And I still have the vial of water from Galahad… that’s not gonna go to waste, not if I can help it.”

Symonne couldn't explain it. She thought her Shepherd sounded _too_ hopeful that it was almost uncanny. Like he has just become an entirely different person.

Sorey smiles wistfully. “That’s a promise, all right? For now, let’s just get out of here before hellions sneak in on us.”

She relents, shrugging her shoulders as she pushed her feet to move one step at a time. “Of course, it will be as you say, Master Shepherd. Let me lead the way…”

 

**o-----)o(-----o**

 

Sorey Sheppard coughed blood, tasted it, felt his tongue licking the cut that was bleeding from his fall. He felt his body twist in mid-air before that, felt the blinding pain shoot in his eyes as dust and dirt flew from the impact of the push that knocked the breath from his lungs and sent him literally spinning with the world beneath his feet.

Bruised to the point of being breathless and numb, he still has a few seconds to spare his so-called arch-enemy and nemesis. For one, this man who introduced himself as Heathbran and now calls himself Heldalf must be stronger than a hellion to be able to lift him with a single flick of his thumb and a few words that sounded like a spell chanted in Latin.

He has read somewhere that it is no more than a fallacy to think that dead languages have some dormant, unspeakable power that makes them ideal for magic and witchcraft. Having interest in a lot of esoteric writing himself, Sorey knows that most fiction dabbling in fantasy and the supernatural is _mostly_ responsible for that mistaken belief, his mom’s being no exception. But this man, this _otherworldly_ ancient warrior named Heldalf just used the same means to bring him down on his knees—or rather on his chest, with his face flat on the dirt—as if to prove that myths and legends have an unspoken truth to them that should never be belittled or casually ignored.

His spells conjure a truth that recognizes the hidden power of words. And such words seem to carry with them an irresistible command no less evil than the one who wields them. Sorey felt that Gramps could not have been lying about Souls of Light and Dark, about hellions, and wraiths, about the Vessel that carries half of the Insidion’s power, the contradiction that could either complete or annihilate such a power. Right now, the man called Heldalf seemed an apparition of darkness unmatched by anything Sorey had seen or felt before, putting meaning in the expression _Soul of Dark_ , which as Lailah explained, was born from the flames of that ancient power called the Malevolence.

 _Malevolence…_ Sorey felt a spat of blood thickening, rising to his throat and he had to cough it out to keep himself from choking. He’s tired of hearing that word over and over, echoing inside his mind like ripples pushing themselves outward from an unreachable center. Squinting while trying to see through the blood and tears that caked in his swollen eye, he began wishing he could summon all the hate in his gut to cough out even the memory of _that_ word. By now, he’s sick of pondering, wondering, thinking about that formless, forsaken origin of things _un-named_ , that infinite curse called the Malevolence.  Just the sound of that word in his mind makes him want to vomit, except that the urge has become a challenge on its own.

Sorey felt his battered lungs, his heaving heart rip and tear in nameless places. For the first time he wanted to scream, to be lost in the sound of his own pain... 

The pain is incomparable, like a massive blade has been sunk into his very center, rupturing flesh, mind, the very essence of him… his soul.

But one prayer kept him to his feet. _Mikleo…_   

Sorey rolls on his back, feeling his lungs squeeze inside of him with a force that made him choke between gasps. It felt as if the very air he was breathing was being sucked out of him, making it difficult to even groan or moan the pain away. Gasping, panting, he had to swallow air through his mouth and taste the salty-sweetness of his own blood as he felt the muscles in his heart and lungs constrict. He was close to suffocating.

Hurts can be distracting and tormenting, but it will never be enough to make him forget. He reached out an arm and tried to grab at anything to pull himself together, to push himself up and inch his way toward that spot a few feet from him now.

He needs to get to Mikleo’s side…

He tried to open his eyes and see through the overwhelming shimmer of light up ahead. But somehow there was nothing there but empty space. Sorey felt his knees buckle at the intense, uncertain fear that assaulted him. 

“Mik... Mikleo!”

No answer. Sorey craned his neck toward the direction where he could feel the presence of others.

 _The seraphim!_ _They must be…_ He raised his voice, straining through the thick coil of blood gurgling in his throat. “Lai-Lailah… wh—what’s going on?”

“Heldalf…” It was Zaveid who answered him. “He must have created a disruption in the Gate Weaving… just enough to push Mikleo out of this world and into somewhere else…”

“W-wait, hold on!” Sorey tried to catch his breath, forcing himself to speak. “Somewhere is not… very helpful!”

A cold, shuddering hand tried to lift him up by giving him a gentle pull—barely enough to keep his back against a firm support. He couldn’t tell what it was, his body felt sick and numb all over.

“Leave it to us for now, kid.” It was Dezel’s voice pushing through his flitting awareness. “We’ll talk more as soon as were done here.”

“But Mikleo is—”

“There’s nothing you can do about it.” As always, Dezel does not mince words. “He’s gone.”

Sorey flung himself out of Dezel’s grasp. “I can’t—won’t accept that!”

Dezel just as easily flung him back. “No, you’re not supposed to. But that’s the situation as of the moment. We’re dealing with a Gate here. None of us have enough power to open or close that thing. Only Shepherds can… and the Lord of Calamity who’s standing there right now, eager to finish you off.”

Sorey pushed himself away from Dezel. “I can’t just let him take Mikleo!”

“We can’t just let him kill you either!”

“I-I’m _not_ the Shepherd!”

“That’s fairly obvious,” Zaveid interrupts, pushing Dezel aside. “But that muscle-brain Heldalf ain’t listening!”

“Stubborn as you, that’s why,” Dezel huffed.

“Zaveid, Dezel, the chains!”

The two seraphim turned to Lailah, leaving Sorey where he was. Lailah had so far managed to bind the Gate with the help of Dezel’s chains, to which she had deviously attached her deck of cards, letting them spiral along the length of the chains to reinforce them with spiritual energy. Dezel cast another chain-binding spell to keep the other chains from breaking, even as Lailah continued infusing the rest with the use of her own element until Dezel had finished his task. Zaveid, on the other hand, created a wind vortex, using it as a barrier to keep Heldalf and Lunarre from getting close enough to reconnect their energies to the Gate. The portal itself seemed to fight back, however, pulsing an angry green then purple, as Lailah, Dezel, and Zaveid’s elements combined to suppress the Malevolence leaking out of it.

Around them, the air bristled with a powerful current of energy, streaks of lightning flashing across the turgid, darkening skies above them as the entire atmosphere quivered with sparks of spiritual energy fighting each other off in a mad haze of light and shadow.  

As for Sorey, now that his vision was beginning to clear, he began to shift his attention to his surroundings. He noticed the state of the soccer field where he and Sergei had been fighting and felt the rough bark of the tree against his back. He was probably sitting on the same spot where he had pushed Sergei back minutes or hours ago after he had started attacking Sorey and the rest of the soccer team. However, no matter what kicks or punches Sorey had used on him, the team manager was relentless, beating him back until he was broken and bleeding and unable to retaliate. His suspicion had been correct, of course; a hellion had possessed Sergei and was using his body as a shield so Sorey could not inflict as much damage or raise a violent offensive against it. Alisha and Rose arrived at the scene and with their help he had called on Lailah and the others to counter Sergei’s attacks and suppress the hellion within him.

But before that, Mikleo had arrived, asking Sorey to let him deal with the situation even as Sorey tried to keep him away, knowing that what was going on was beyond _human_ or _normal_ and presents a threat only the seraphim and their Shepherd have the power to defeat.

Besides, he would never want any harm to come to Mikleo. After finally being able to confess all those feelings he had kept secret for so long, he was looking forward to spending quiet days with him, days where they could simply be happy and content with each other’s company. He dreamt of moments like their first night alone together, that first night that Mikleo had let him express all his feelings… how much he had wanted to feel Mikleo next to him, how much he needed him by his side…

After all, they’ve done more than just kiss. They have become one, both body and soul, and for the first time Sorey had felt what it was like to love and be loved. For the first time he had felt the power of that pure, infinite joy, that overwhelming impulse that you can take on anything in the world, the good, the bad even the worst of everything... because there is that one person out there worth living for.

The one person who, no matter how twisted things get, can make things all right again.  Just because he's alive...

Just because he breathes the same air under the same sky.        

Then those words hit him like a brute force of wind that was more terrible than all the beating he had taken in his life: _“He’s gone…”_  

Sorey heard a familiar shot ring clear somewhere in the distance. It seemed Zaveid had just used Siefried to keep a hellion from breaking through the chains that Dezel and Lailah had wrapped around the Gate to keep it from leaking out Malevolence from the other side… that _Otherworld_  where all these underworld creatures seemed to have come from. Sorey threw a furtive look at the pillar of light that was the Gate. He and Mikleo have been standing on the same spot where the portal was when this man who called himself Heldalf appeared out of nowhere.

Suddenly, a piercing scream broke through Sorey’s senses. It was coming from…

“Rose!” Alisha gasped, desperately holding onto the figure shimmering in ethereal light in front of her. Rose seemed unhurt, but her eyes were dilated and she seemed oblivious to Alisha’s panicked pleas. She struggled out of Alisha’s grasp and started running in the direction where Lailah, Dezel, and Zaveid were.

Sorey inched himself toward Alisha, dragging himself by the knees.

“Alisha… what’s going on?”

“It's Rose-she... just started running like she didn't-” Alisha shivered, cut off by her own fear and confusion over what seemed like a bizarre nightmare. “Those things... that light..."

Sorey squinted at the burst of energy clouding their vision. Sparks of light fizzled around them, filling the air with the heavy, turgid feel of something unknown lurking in the frigid flames. "It's not something I can explain either..."  

"Sorey…" Alisha felt tears drowning her vision. "Something… I don't know how, but something’s controlling her and... it feels like... I've seen it before... It's not even something I've ever known but still... it's not making any sense, Sorey!”

Sorey knew that feeling. He struggled to stand up.

“Sorey!” Alisha reached out to him. “You’re hurt, you shouldn’t be moving!”

“I just can’t stay here and watch this. Besides,” he looked back at her, unable to hide the bitter sadness in his voice. “I also need to get Mikleo back…”

At the sound of that name, pale, topaz-green eyes shimmered with a surge of uncertain feelings, and Alisha found herself holding onto Sorey tightly. “But you're injured, and that someone out there seems too strong for anyone, even for Lailah and the others.”

Sorey shook his head. “Even so, I can’t let those things hurt Mikleo… Whatever it takes, I’ll get him back.”

Alisha looked him full in the face. “Sorey… Mikleo's not... the only one who needs you..."

The strong, sad emotion in her voice was hard to ignore, but it wasn't something Sorey could heed at the moment. "I can't lose him, Alisha. I'd go crazy if I did..."

"I’m scared.”

Sorey didn’t know what to say to that. He put a hand on her head, trying to comfort her like she was a child who needed to be reassured. It didn’t matter that she was older than him.

“I’m a little scared too.”

Alisha stood up and hugged him, pushing all her worry and anxiety into the embrace that allowed her to breathe in Sorey’s scent, feel the warmth of his body flowing into her.

“Stay here beside me…” she breathed into his neck, letting tears fall onto his chest. “I-I need you too…”

“Alisha…” Sorey didn’t know what to say and let her hold him for now.

 

**o-----)o(-----o**

 

“Shepherd Sorey…” Lord Pawan greeted him warmly, extending his hand to Sorey.

Sorey smiled back at the seraph, eyes shimmering. “I’m glad to see you too. But my hands are full at the moment.”

“I can see that,” Lord Pawan told him, casting a furtive glance at the water seraph sleeping in Sorey’s arms. “Lord Mikleo is back… but how?”

“I don’t know how to explain it. I don’t even know if there’s an explanation to it,” Sorey told the Guild Master, sounding confused but far from regretful. “Symonne and I were in the caves of Camoria looking for the sacred Altar when we found him. Or rather, we fell into an underground cavern, and when I finally woke up…” A wan smile broke through the confusion in Sorey’s eyes as he spoke. “… he was there all of a sudden.”

Lord Pawan looked mystified. “That is strange and unexpected... but likewise dangerous. The ruins of Camoria have eyes and ears that swell with the energy of the Shadowlords. We do not know what they might do once they find out that the Vessel is amongst us. Besides, you must have heard about the awakening.”

Sorey nodded. “I have.”

“We are hoping that the signs portend the Innominat’s return. Of course, our common goal is to be able to protect them long enough before the Shadowlords hear of it and send us their hellion armies.”

Symonne stepped forward from behind Sorey. “It seems that Camoria is overrun by wraiths as well. I heard their distant howls amongst the caverns… Once awakened, they become ravenous, feeding and mating for months. I need not go further into details as to how much more aggressive and threatening they become.”

Sorey glanced at Symonne. “So you mean they were hibernating just right next to us? I wasn’t aware of that back there.”

“I see no need to worry you.”

Lord Pawan looked up, seemingly in deep thought. “I have to admit, wraiths are another problem, and I’m still looking for a chance to deal with that too. They seem to grow more powerful as we stand. In fact, they’ve ambushed several of ours on their way back to the guilds. It was enough to keep Lord Uno busy and I had to send reinforcements. That is why the place seems quiet at the moment… Most of my seraphel must be on their way back, but until then, I would have to manage for two or three days with minimal support…”

“I thought those wraiths back there were just starting to wake up…”

Symonne answered Sorey’s question with a frown. “Some do hibernate longer than others. The older ones usually wake up earlier than the rest.”

“Oh.” Sorey looked around. The place looked bigger with very few seraphel working at their stations. It almost felt… lonely. He turned to Lord Pawan. “Maybe we can lend you a hand while we’re here then.”

“Before that, Lord Mikleo must be attended to properly. There are rooms I can spare. Meanwhile I’ll see if I can weave a Gate to let you pass once you’re ready. I know you’re looking forward to the comfort of your own shelter and to tend more personally to Lord Mikleo’s needs .”

Sorey almost coughed at the warm heat rising up his throat. “Please, no worries, I don’t mind staying here for a while. You might need our help until the rest are able to make it back.”

Lord Pawan gave Sorey a concerned look. “That would be best on my end, but if Lord Uno is correct, this is the least safe place for hiding at the moment. The farther you are from here, the better. We don’t even know if the others could make it back in time. Lord Uno’s report regarding the size of the hellion armies marching across Loghrin is a grave matter we cannot overlook. And I’ve heard that Tiamat might be next.”

Sorey frowned deeply. “I guess we really need to find the Altar of Holies as soon as we can. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to be of much help.”

“On the contrary, protecting Lord Mikleo is the heavier task only you can carry out. He’s the Vessel the Insidion is after, and I doubt the Shadowlords have not foreseen this already.”

Sorey heaved a sigh, but his eyes shimmered with a piercing, metallic sheen that made the emerald in them look almost frightening. “I’m not letting them touch even a hair of him as long as I’m here.”    

Lord Pawan shifted his gaze farther ahead. “I will let you know when the Gate is ready. Until then, let me show you to your rooms. Believe me, resting your worries for now may be the best preparation for the bigger fight ahead of us.”

Sorey followed Lord Pawan to the inner chambers, his gaze shifting back to Mikleo. “I just hope there’s enough time for even that.”

 

**o-----)o(-----o**

 

“Heldalf! Think you need to grow eyes if you’re mistakin’ that ugly sonafabitch for a foxy babe!”

Even in the commotion, it was easy to tell that the voice could not be anyone else’s but Zaveid’s. From where Sorey stood, he could see the tall, topless, tattooed muscular guy aiming at the creature with his Siegfried, which smoked from the shot he has just released. Actually the man was standing no less than thirty meters from him and Alisha, right next to Dezel who seemed oblivious of what the man said, arms outstretched and palms open wide as chains of energy spun out and flew from their center, attaching themselves to the portal with an unearthly, effervescent green light.

Lailah, who distanced herself a few feet as she began chanting words almost inaudible to Sorey, looked on with an aghast expression. Right across her was a creature who looked human enough if not for the abundant mane framing his face like a lion’s and the clownish, red scowl that seemed permanently painted on his pointed face. Although Sorey knew he was seeing such a creature for the first time, he could not help but have vague misgivings. Standing next to Heldalf, the creature bowed at Lailah with an exaggerated sweep of its arms, its mouth showing off sharp fangs as a menacing grimace danced on its curled lips.

“You… and Lunarre?” Lailah gasped at Heldalf with apparent disbelief, shock breaking through the sounds of confusion and vibrant humming around them.

“Heck, we shouldn’t be surprised.” It was Dezel who spoke this time.  “Birds of the same feather fight together. Though these birds ain’t nightingales either.”

Sorey started walking in the direction of the commotion, watching as sparks of light leapt across angry clouds looming above them, only to spiral and crash down the portal that was flickering wildly in front of them, as if just about ready to burst at the seams.

“Sorey!” Alisha held onto his waist, trying to pull him back.

This time, he couldn’t even look at her. “Aren’t you worried about Rose? She’s still out there, and we don’t even know what’s going on.”

“You know I care about Rose, but…” Alisha pauses, worry etched all over her face. “… how can you—it’s not gonna do any good if you get hurt too, Sorey!”

“It doesn’t make any difference now, does it?” Sorey walked on, pulling out of her grasp with a gentle push. “It's been hell since that hellion got into Sergei…”

Alisha’s eyes fluttered wildly. “Hel-hellion?” For some reason, that word sounded awfully familiar, like a distant echo in her mind that has become clear only now.

“Rose!” Dezel’s voice sounded panicked in a way Sorey had not heard before. The level-headed seraph sounded flustered and confused all of a sudden, and Sorey heard one of the chains break from his grasp. The Gate suddenly burst wildly, fizzling, burning with an intense shimmer of light as if somehow it had been begging, struggling to be released from its restraints. “Rose, get outta there!”

“Dezel!” Zaveid howled, obviously struck by the unexpected. “We need you to focus on the chains! Lailah and I can’t do this alone!”

Dezel muttered under his breath. He cast a wind spell in Rose’s direction, watching as a small vortex appeared below her feet to pull her back and away from the Gate she was trying to approach. “Hell, I just can’t stand here and let that thing suck her in too!”

“All right, but we need a stronger chain to replace the ones that got broken,” Lailah called out, her face sweating profusely under the glow of her unearthly fire spell. It looked to Sorey that she was about to reach her limit too.

Lailah spun around, a deck of cards flitting around her like scattered birds burning with an intense blaze of flame. “Zaveid, Dezel! C’mon you guys, it’s now or never!”

A curtain of energy billowed around the raging portal, its now transparent hues flickering with an angry, vibrant pulse. Heldalf grimaced at the sight, uncertain disbelief painfully etched onto his scowling face as Lunarre leapt frantically away like a fish caught on a hook, keeping his distance from the insipid flames.

Sorey stared in awe. The Gate burned with a pale, luminous green light before parting in the middle.

Through the crack and fizzle of light, a tall figure with long, platinum hair waving behind him gracefully strode into the confusion. He was decked in the same gold-fringed, white cape and thigh-high boots that Sorey recognized from before, and his posture bore a foreboding elegance that seemed as ominous and frightening as it was beautiful.

Sorey recognized him now. He was Eizen in his armatized form, the same one Zaveid had introduced to him and Mikleo that time he had seen and fought hellions up close for the first time. Behind him was a shorter figure who strode with equal nonchalance, her eyes livid, shining with the deepest, most intense sapphire-blue Sorey had ever seen. It was Edna. Just like Rose, however, she seemed oblivious of her surroundings, following a silent command it seems as she kept close to Eizen, stopping only when Eizen turned toward her and caught her in his arms. Sorey felt a pang of concern when Edna fell into an unconscious heap and remembered that the same thing happened back when Eizen armatized for the first time.

He remembered that Shepherds required _vessels_ to lend them their power during armatization. Literally, they serve as arms or weapons for the Shepherd through which he fires his spiritual energy or mana. The vessel also seems to provide healing in case of injuries sustained during attacks. But of course, it doesn’t mean that a vessel is completely safe, standing well beyond the line of fire. Every injury, every strain and pain suffered by the Shepherd is shared by his vessel, as if they are halves of one and the same body. In other words, the vessel is the key to armatizing a seraph, and though it seemed that only humans could armatize with their chosen seraphim back in those days when the Shepherd title applied only to humans with resonance who could see, hear, and interact with the seraphim, in this world, the rules have slightly been twisted by the intervention of the Insidion and its broken half.

As Lailah had carefully explained to him, all seraphim seemed capable of resonating with humans in this human world, but for some reason, they could armatize _only_ with other seraphim with whom they must be compatible. These seraphim—so-called vessels from the point of view of the Shepherd seraph—lend, or more like _sacrifice_ , their own mana in order to sustain the Shepherd’s life-force during a battle and better his chances of victory over a powerful opponent.

What seems surprising—if not mystifying—to Sorey is that as much as a vessel may be indispensable to a Shepherd, the vessel cannot be just any seraph. Only one whose energies and temperament seemed attuned with the Shepherd’s could lend him his or her powers so that the latter may be able to form and utilize formidable weapons and offensive artes needed to defeat stronger, more potent enemies, which include not only high-level hellions but perhaps also Souls of Dark, such as Heldalf.

Sorey flinched. He has just been getting used to the idea that there are such things as hellions who roamed the human world freely, harvesting malevolent energies from negative human emotions in order to sustain their dark, parasitic existence when Heldalf appeared. Now he has to deal with a different set of opponents, enemies who thought of him as somehow related to that Shepherd he had met not so long ago, the one who came to his aid when he was trying to save Mikleo. More than that, all these superhuman, supernatural forces seemed to have come from that distant Otherworld, that side of the universe he had also been sucked into once. But if these hellion-masters, these seraphim-hating Souls of Dark could likewise open Gates, then it is certainly _not_ unlikely that wherever they had taken Mikleo must be…

Sorey bristled at the realization of it. If Mikleo had been brought to the same part of the universe Sorey himself had returned to at _that_ time, then definitely all he needed to find him was—

“Lunarre!”

A menacing growl issued from Zaveid’s lips at the warning Heldalf had bellowed at the hellion as Zaveid fired Sigfried into the air. The said figure deftly missed the smoking bullet, flinging himself high up into the heavy mist above them with superfluous grace, spreading out his limbs as if they were wings, before finally descending onto Dezel’s chains. With a scythe, he cut through Dezel’s chains, creating a fissure in the flow of energy that connected the seraphim’s mana to the Gate. It was then that Sorey heard a diabolical, maniacal growl erupt from the creature. Although he thought of hellions as mindless, shapeless, malignant energies that merely borrowed a human’s form and features, he was ready to believe that they must be more complicated than that. Heldalf’s accomplice, the one who seemed to wear a permanent snickering half-smile, the one who had just joined the fray, cutting through Dezel’s chains with a streak of incensed madness, was definitely a hellion but of a different class altogether. He felt it from the thick, willowing swirl of miasma that choked the frigid atmosphere around them as the beastly, half-man, fox-like creature closed in on them.

What Sorey likewise found odd was the fact that while those features seemed more monstrous than human, the creature’s ability to wield that scythe of his seemed hardly animalistic or primitive. After all, he was able to cleave Dezel’s chains and Lailah’s fumes with precise, cutting strokes that seemed impossibly fluid, flawless. The dark, malevolent _mana_ that issued from his body, however was cataclysmically disproportionate to the size of his body, for though he was but slightly smaller than Heldalf and not as muscular, the fog of malevolence shrouding him was suffocating even from Sorey’s distance. His weapon, however, seemed to carry the energies of the Soul of Dark within it, suffusing it with the same dark mana that allowed such a tool to shift-shape and dissipate at its owner’s command.

In other words, this hellion apparently seemed highly intelligent and independent, almost human but not quite, and almost as adept as the seraphim in favouring weapons of immense power that are capable of storing and utilizing substantial amounts of dark mana or Malevolence. It seems frightening to imagine that such potent enemies behave no different from the seraphim, even wielding artes and weapons that seemed just as formidable as the tools of armatization Sorey had seen the Shepherd use.

Sorey watched as Lunarre landed onto Heldalf’s side, superfluously exaggerating the balance he was able to accomplish despite having just flung himself into the air at an unimaginable height. “We’ve accomplished what we’ve set out to do, Master Heldalf. All the Vessel really needed to pass through was the key, and you’ve just given him that…”

Sorey’s right brow twitched. This beastly-looking man in pristine robes that seemed to have a permanently nasty grin painted on the corners of his lips was definitely referring to the jewelled coronet that Heldalf forcibly slipped onto Mikleo’s forehead. Sorey didn’t know exactly where the certainty was coming from, but for some nameless reason he grasped the meaning in Lunarre’s words.

“I cannot wait too long for the awakening. Too many centuries had already slipped through our fingers.”

“Time passes and does nothing else. But doubtless there are countless victories we should be looking forward too, Master Heldalf. This is just the beginning, and yet so much has already happened it’s almost entertaining, don’t you agree?” Lunarre sounded confident, grinning like his older self.

Sorey clutched the right side of his ribcage. The muscle there seemed to have been torn from flesh and bone, and the pain was making him vomit. But he spat out. “M-Mikleo… give him back, Heldalf! I swear… I swear I’ll kill—”

“Indeed, has the Shepherd really degenerated into such an unspeakably vindictive monster called humanity?” Heldalf growled, flashing Sorey an ominous look. “As much as those words give me pleasure and relief, this much I can say: you have much to learn from your predecessor. The Shepherd may be a creature of stubborn delusions, but his spirit is as virile as he is pure. Sadly, as much as your enthusiasm excites me, you don’t measure up… not even to the shadow of your former self.”

Eizen who has just been standing and observing until then grasped the ends of the chains attached onto the fringes of the flaming, shimmering portal of light behind him. Concentrating deeply, the chains flamed an angry red, then blue, drowning the surge of miasma threatening to overflow from within it.

Heldalf looked impressed. “I must congratulate your companions though, as they seem to have done most of the work cut out for you! They’ve even managed to seal the Gate from the other side to keep me from summoning more hellions into this world! Likewise, they were able to use a combination of wind and fire artes to create their own key, a vortex of energy that could unlock an opening anywhere within the boundaries of this world. In other words, those chains did not only pull shut the door on the other side but wrecked a tunnel through which your Shepherd could fly to this place. Almost brilliant, I must say,” Heldalf openly declared, his stentorian voice dripping with sarcasm.

Then without warning, he flung an arm into the air, palm extending outward as the air around it rippled with evil intent. “Sadly, such things will never be enough!”

“I will be the judge of that!” Eizen howled back, his voice almost drowned in the sound of cackling, bursting energy that seemed to electrify the very air around them. Sparks of light appeared at the tips of his fingers, coursing huge amounts of mana into the remaining chains as they shook and shivered with the brute force of his own life-force.

“Hey, cool, now we’re finally doing it!” Zaveid shouted, shooting his Siegfried into the Gate as a prism of light shattered into fevered sparks. Heldalf’s expression was unreadable when the bullet had intercepted the shard of energy he had thrown into the Gate. The shard splintered in two then cracked and shattered into slivers. Its target must have been those remaining conduits of spiritual energy that connected the seraphim and the Shepherd to the core of the Gate, enabling them to suppress its power considerably.

“Just a little more!” Dezel shouted, wrapping his emerald crucifix necklace around his left fist. Under his breath he muttered something esoteric, a spell used to reinforce the previous chain-binding spell he had cast.

Zaveid watched him with a slight frown. “Pushing yourself is fine, but it better be good ‘cause I don’t think any of us can last longer than this!”    

“Eizen! Wait!”

Eizen looked over his shoulder with a grave yet unreadable expression. In his current form he seemed too surreal to be real, like an angel of death that has just walked out of a canvas, deep, metallic-blue eyes giving Sorey a cold, piercing look of deadly resolve.

Sorey inched his way toward Eizen, dragging his feet.

“Sorey!” Lailah’s voice sounded panicked. She must have read his mind or maybe she was worried over his injuries. In any case, Sorey continued his approach, barely returning the looks etched on his companions’ faces.

Eizen watched him with glazed eyes. “Stand back, young man!” he warned, as if he was afraid of something that was about to happen. “This Gate has to be sealed no matter what! Don’t even think of trying anything devious…”

Dezel and Zaveid exchanged confused looks. They seem to have missed the point of that warning.

Lailah gasped. “Sorey, you can’t!”

Sorey Sheppard didn’t hear that plea, or maybe he has already made up his mind, has finally found the resolve to do the unthinkable.

Eizen flung all his remaining power into the portal, suffusing the wavering heat with a blinding white light that broke through the appalling fog of miasma. The purple flames flickered then died in a sudden explosion of sparks, leaving in its wake shimmering pillars of light that surrounded the entire field like a protective wall breaking through the angry shadows and the suffocating atmosphere that had descended with the Soul of Dark.

Lailah and the others looked up. The sky had begun to clear with the shifting clouds as the Gate started to fade into a faint, flickering pulse.

But it was just a second too late.

Going past Rose and everybody else, Sorey flung himself hard, fast, and deep into the yawning slit of light that remained of the Gate.

As the Gate wavered and dissipated, Sorey Sheppard dissolved into the spark of light that burst into the empty air.

Alisha ran, but somehow, things that seemed near enough to reach and hold onto just kept slipping away, leaving her with nothing but the cold, chilling emptiness of a passing breeze, whipping her cheeks with its soft, lingering breath.

Sorey Sheppard had truly, irrevocably vanished without a trace. And all Lailah and the others could do was stand with uncertainty and fear, afraid to even imagine the unimaginable possibilities.

 

**o-----)o(-----o**

 

Stumbling his way to a corner not too far away from the foot of the bed, Sorey took the time to look around him. The room that Lord Pawan had provided for him and Mikleo was a shared room with two separate beds, a bedside table that was wide enough to hold nothing more than a single row of about five books vertically lined up, and a dusty shelf with two huge volumes of the _Seraphic Lexicon_ seated on its top half. A couple of drawers occupied the bottom half of the shelf, and with nothing to stop his curiosity, he pulled at it, finding to his small pleasure nothing more than simple curiosities—colored pebbles, random notes, scented tea candles, and vials of sweet-smelling gels and spices he could not even name collecting dust from disuse and maybe neglect.

Shifting his attention to the room itself, he sensed the rosy-warm, relaxing ambiance exuded by the quaint but comfortably-spaced chamber, one that promised the most modest of comforts. Aside from its moderately high ceiling and dirt-colored walls, he also noticed the faintest hum of flowing water riveting from behind the silence of its earthen textures. Without knowing why they reminded Sorey of the caverns of Camoria with their dark, moist-laden interiors and damp, earthy smell. But this time a low candle burned at their bedside, and two plain white robes hung above a bedpost, anticipating perhaps the possible need for a change of clothes.

Sorey gazed at Mikleo quietly, sighing as he did, maybe for the umpteenth time, not that he had even bothered to count. The agitation in him had returned, quivering and shivering in his bones like a cold fever that had taken over his body. That was strange, though. Describing the sensation as a mixture of heat and cold was surprising since it was almost unfamiliar, like a memory he had not realized he had forgotten until this moment…

Mikleo moaned something incomprehensible, his arm flying to the pillow over his head. Sorey’s reaction was involuntary, his body moving toward the bed where the silver-haired boy he had known and regarded as his closest, most precious childhood friend slept, his face glowing with undisturbed calm.

Sorey smiled. He was almost happy at the thought that Mikleo could sleep so peacefully. Now that he had managed to find him a safe place for resting, his anxieties had considerably diminished—enough at least to free his attention for other, less important things. Speaking of which, he leisurely regarded Mikleo’s features with nervous excitement, watching the play of light soften those features that have never been anything but beautiful—perfect up to the point that everyone back then had teased his friend calling him Lady Meebo, to the water seraph’s chagrin. Sorey found himself smirking almost mischievously at the reminder. Mikleo was never a sport when it comes to teasing, and he had always been at the receiving end of it, perhaps for the very same reason that he had hated it more than anyone ever could.

Sorey sat carefully on the edge of the bed, sinking his weight slowly, gently, not wanting to disrupt Mikleo’s sleep in the slightest. Now that he has nothing to distract him—no hellions, wraiths, or Shadowlords hovering in some secret distance—he can relish the view in front of him with quiet content, raking the sleeping figure up and down with a familiar, nostalgic curiosity that came from being separated from his friend for far too long. It was then that his eyes grazed the unbuttoned half of Mikleo’s shirt, noticed too that those clothes he wore apparently defined what was _normal_ back in that world where, as the Insidion’s Vessel, the water seraph had come to be reborn as a human.

From his brief encounter with his own human counterpart, the one reborn in that world—Sorey Sheppard was it—he had learned that in _that world_ , the human Mikleo was supposed to be a seventeen-year-old student with a remarkable affinity for history and the arts. Even though the difference between their worlds seemed staggering and frightening in almost every aspect, that part assuaged some of his fears. Though everything had been changed between them, it seemed some things refused to be eroded by time and fate, remaining essentially the same throughout the centuries.

Mikleo still loved the same things he loved: history, culture, maybe even the same old things such as ruins and shrines… old books, or even older memories…

Sorey wondered now what _other_ things he knew about Mikleo had remained the same. When he carried him in his arms, he couldn’t fight the urge to be curious and a little afraid, couldn’t suppress the compelling need to satiate his senses with all of him…

If only he could lay bare all of Mikleo’s feelings, his likes and dislikes, his secret wants, needs, and compulsions, all of him, including the innermost stirrings of his heart…

Instead, what lay bare to him now was skin and flesh that looked so smooth and supple, like the same sweet skin he had breathed back in those days when they shared everything—the same books, the same bath, even the same bed… 

With a nervous quiver, Sorey’s fingers moved toward the soft, creamy skin exposed beneath the thin fabric of Mikleo’s shirt, breathlessly following the shape of the collarbone that made touching Mikleo seem like the most natural impulse.

Sorey knew he needed a distraction to calm his frustrations. He walked to the bedside table, wondering at the large, gilded volume left there on its side, the gold-painted letters etched on its cover casting off the soft glow of the candlelight with pale flickers.

Sorey picked it up carefully with one hand. _The Seraphim Chronicles…_

It had been a long time since he had read history, but the archaic compendium of events and theories regarding the wars, the rise and fall of empires that have ushered in another age of chaos was not something he ached to think about now.

Not when the writer himself was sleeping just a few feet away, oblivious of the importance he had occupied in the entire history of the world that the former Shepherd and his few surviving companions were trying to save.

Lord Pawan had even addressed him by his former name, _Lord Mikleo_. But the sound of it was something Sorey would never get used to.

With a slight quiver, his fingers began to ruffle through the pages and the ages recorded in that precious volume Mikleo himself had produced as his own. Doubtless he began during those years that Sorey had slept while purifying Maotelus, and continued writing up until a few years before that _final_  battle that decided (and ended) _almost_ everything.

Nevertheless, Sorey never tired reading the dedication on the first page, ambiguous to everyone save him.

 

_Oh sleep, do calm my mind_

_As the hope of the ages slumbers in your breast_

_Let my ink be the darkened tears flowing through these rivers of discontent;_

_The body sleeps, yet the spirit stirs_

_Emboldened by passion I will write thee_

_And make you live forever as I live_

_In the memory of you._

 

Sorey knew how volumes of the same book had been destroyed before, purged from the archives during the time that seraphim worship was being suppressed in many places. He was barely able to save copies for himself and was only too happy that the Guild Masters had actually made reproductions of Mikleo’s book for their own purposes. Right now, this book in his hands felt more alive, more real than it could ever be now that its writer was just a few inches from him… real enough and near enough to touch.  

Books are written to make people remember. But Sorey knew only too well that books can be burned too. Scholars and heroes mostly end up the same way. Church persecutions, executions, assassinations to name but a few… Mikleo had lived alongside human history far longer than he did at that time, at least long enough to write about the absurdity of what human kingdoms back then called the arrival of the one ‘true’ and ‘pure’ religion. In those days they called it the one real path to salvation that sought to supplant the veneration of seraphim that had been inspired by the _Diphda Legacy_. Not that Alisha’s hard work and countless sacrifices to revive seraphim worship had all been in vain.

Revisiting libraries and archives in his various travels during Maotelus’s purification, Mikleo must have heard and read a great deal about the towering accomplishments ascribed to Alisha’s benevolent leadership and straightforward idealism—enough at least to make Sorey somewhat jealous of Mikleo’s towering praises of her. Not that Sorey could question the real reason behind them either. Alisha Diphda’s radical politics had attempted, at least, to end dynasties and blood feuds that traditionally characterized royal succession by introducing a system of voting that encouraged participation at all social levels. Even political positions once reserved for the privileged members of the royal family became more a matter of choice than of right, as they were eventually displaced by those only the Inter-State Council of Elders had the valid power to appoint. Made up of the highest, most venerated scholars and sages across the continent and its allied kingdoms, this Council became the bedrock of Diphda's leadership, enabling years of peace, security and prosperity to continue long after her reign.

But of course such brilliant and novel accomplishments were not without its enemies. Mikleo had also written about Alisha’s eventual assassination by a band of mercenary knights who called themselves the _Order of the Silver Falcon_ , which later, with the support of some powerful Hylanders—a political party representing Hyland in the State Council—came to represent the Royal Army of the Alliance, winning great favor in the public eye with their active, over-zealous support of the State’s military campaigns against the North. Eventually they became the Empire’s single, unified, military force, supplanting the Platinum Knights of its neighboring ally, Rolance, which were forced to either disband or withdraw on the pain of being court-marshalled as an armed threat to the peace and unity of the State Alliance.

With the last of the supporters of the Diphda Monarchy losing their place of influence in the political arena, the Empire had been completely reorganized.

On Sorey’s part, he did his best to lend protection and support to what remained of the Diphda loyalists upon his return or rather, awakening. There were limits, of course, to what seraphim like him could accomplish in the face of the rising distrust and ill-feelings against the accomplishments attributed to the seraphim and the Shepherd of the Age of Chaos. Modern accounts of that legend place him as a political anomaly at best and a seraphim zealot and fanatic at worst who instigated controversial religious sentiments and anti-government idealism under the guise of an underground cult of seraphim worship. His ‘false miracles’ were regarded as _mere_ strategic diversion for seducing ‘a certain princess,’ or much worse, some propaganda meant to instigate anti-military state policies that raised criminality and sowed rebellion, terrorism, and distrust in church and state leadership.

As for those who continued to support the old monarchy—mainly Diphda’s pacifist, anti-imperialist policies—and lobbied for political and economic reforms which included lowering peasant and marine merchant taxes as well as demilitarizing the borders of Glenwood (which, truth be told, was consuming more funds than any state expenditure), they were swiftly arrested, tried, and conveniently executed as enemies of the State. It was a losing fight to say the least, and rumors of excessive government corruption and bureaucracy sowed further discontent among the populace. Military conflicts likewise worsened with border-battle scenarios of Camlann from long ago virtually repeating themselves. Sorey himself believed that most conflicts and confrontations between and among the armies of the Northern and Southern Kingdoms seemed to have been escalated by malicious gossip and syndicated activities involving organized outlaws funding the State’s military campaigns underhandedly.

It was not difficult to foresee the resurgence of political factions and bitter, backwater border fights, the renegotiation of old war zones and territorial claims as the inevitable aftermath. Strengthening naval fleets became necessary as some politicians saw the profit in stretching these conflicts beyond local terrain and cavalry command. Fighting on the high seas also put more advantage on those who possessed more advanced weaponry and resources, whereas ground battles simply exploited the virtue of numbers and facility of movement that gave the North greater advantage. Northerners were more adapted to colder, harsher climates and even more rugged landscapes and physical conditions, including the modesty and scarcity of resources that go with them. And considering the pampered state of the military of the Southern Alliance, fighting ground battles in Heimdall would be a non-winning compromise.             

In the face of such evolving dynamics, even the combined efforts of the seraphim could never be enough. As a former Shepherd, Sorey wanted to remain neutral (he knew it was the right thing to do), which meant keeping some distance from politicians and church authorities, even those who manifest resonance with the seraphim. Even when the _Innominat_ refused to intervene, even when the roster of Shepherds that succeeded him and Rose were divided between helping and letting things be, he did his best to keep the blessings flowing to the entire continent in the hope of minimizing the economic after-effects of the civil wars and the ruthless, church-instigated, conspiracies and military clashes between the continental powers, the Northern and the Southern Kingdoms.

Eventually more compact alliances formed between and among these bastions of power, which saw the rise of _Elennia_ , or what the Hylanders called _Heaven’s Trinity_ , a triumvirate of leadership made up of the Emperor, the Pope, and the Chancellor.

Of the three, it was the Chancellor who undoubtedly held the most influence, making it easy from his position of privilege to tip the balance of the scales between war and peace; for it was the Chancellor who had command of the most prestigious, most decorated warriors of the Southern Empire, the _Silver Falcon Knights_ , the mightiest army of the Southern Alliance that seated itself on the capital of the Empire, the city-capital of Rolance which was declared to be so after the fall of the Diphda Monarchy and the voluntary withdrawal of the Platinum Knights some of whom even joined the rank and file of the Silver Falcons. With the military coming under the direct control and supervision of the most powerful political constituents of the Southern Empire, it was easy to see how the so-called Age of Empires swiftly deteriorated into an age of intensive intercontinental conflicts—bloody wars, in other words—fought between Heimdall and Glenwood.

The gruesome naval battles and territorial incursions were to last for centuries, eventually spreading the tyranny of imperialism and conquest among the general populace. Heimdall was overrun—mercilessly pillaged and driven to all forms of desperation. Its kingdoms and populace drained of its lifeblood, the debilitating miseries of poverty, starvation, discontent, and dissent were to last for another century, pushing scant survivors into killing desperation that culminated into local rebellions and uprisings that eventually simmered into a series of bloody revolutions that risked every resource it could in order to win.

There were rumors that Pendrago, the Papal Capital of Glenwood, had much to do with the war in a way that seemed more than just a matter of compromising its advocacy for genuine spiritual unification and peace. Sorey was more than ready to believe that the Pope was the sort of man who would ingratiate himself to power by conspiring with the Chancellor to ensure the success of its one pride and glory, the mighty Silver Falcon Army. There were vague hints that the Trinity, under the unwavering influence of the Pope, had authorized research and experimentation into a gray area of _resource enhancement_ , a phenomenon that went by the name of _hellionization_ spoken in the language of the seraphim, no doubt, who apparently were the first to stumble upon its existence with the help of the few remaining loyalists who likewise formed a secret alliance among themselves within the Trinity hierarchy, the _Order of the Dark Shepherds_. These last, few seraphim worshippers had been the first to archive the use of the forbidden artes within the ranks of the Silver Falcon Knights, including the various details—both sinister and macabre—of the secret handiwork of a suspicious order within the ranks of the papal ministry, the so-called _Ravencrow Mages,_ who dedicated themselves to the research and development of _daemon_ infusion techniques...

True to its name, the Order of the Dark Shepherds risked being tainted by their discoveries. In their obscure but scholarly-written articles they were able to detail the frightening curiosities and esoteric perversions of an age that hungered for the ancient power that human Shepherds once possessed. They were able to expound the ruthless process of harvesting spiritual energies that, when properly infused into human subjects, would enable them to operate beyond the range of any normal, physical ability or capacity, making such _hybrids_ the ideal military weapon.

Fundamentally, the process pondered the possible fusion of forbidden artes with the elemental powers of the seraphim. Of course, the prerequisite hinged on tethering seraphim to these human superpowers by inducing in them a strange sort of compulsion, an intriguing strain of malevolence that can be triggered by mysterious artes…

Such artes, they say, generate a peculiar drive within the seraphim, an inexplicable attraction to certain ‘gifted’ humans who possess peculiarly strong, distinct, and seductively resonant energies…

That seraphim can, in fact, be tethered against their will like that, by self-serving humans who only craved for their power, their unique abilities…

That humans thought of the seraphim as mere tools… borne to serve human masters… to do as they desire…

That humans can be so disgustingly manipulative… Sorey could hardly believe that he had _ever_ been one of them… that he was, in fact, originally human…

Still, it is the seraphim who suffer the worst condemnation.

Even the Leviathan, the highest among the gods and immortals of Celestia, the seat of origin of the heavenly beings, regard the seraphim as nothing more than well-crafted weapons, ideal targets for drawing the enemy fire...

Self-sacrificing slaves…

Saintly fodder…     

Both gods and humans thought of these rare angels as less than what they truly are—divine providers who blessed the land in exchange for scant prayers and offerings. But growing up with them, raised under their unwavering protection and devotion, Sorey has never looked at the seraphim with anything less than the highest respect and admiration.

That he loved them truly even as a human… he would never deny that.

That he cherished one of them despite knowing that a fellow seraph would never come to know the true meaning and depth of human love and desire as he does… he who has never lost his human memories, his human _soul_ …

Even if a seraph may never come to understand what love means for a human boy who never thought his single infatuation would last forever... who disguised it effectively behind the faded, worn-out pages of a book that glorified and sang praises of the seraphim…

He, Sorey, both as a human and as a seraph would never abandon such feelings, even if this hurting, aching human sort of love would go on as long as he lives… the one beauty and tragedy of his fate… 

Sorey closed his eyes. _Enough… please… let it go…_

_Let me go…_

Then again, wasn't that a greater lie? Sorey knew he would give up everything not to let the feeling itself wither away and die.

Lord Pawan had once told him, the death of men and seraphim is nothing more than giving back to life what belongs to it in order that things can be reborn and remade… But the death of ideas—and of feelings, most of all—is an eternal death that goes beyond the killing of people and civilizations. For such are the ways in which evil is born. Weren’t these words Mikleo’s own thoughts, written in that book he had gifted him with... that precious tome which happens to be the first volume of the _Seraphim Chronicles_ , known by _that_ title that had been notoriously banned by the clergy,  _The Age of Chaos: Chronicles of a Shepherd Companion_?

_“For pure evil is born by killing the emotions that make us love… the same emotions that make us hate.”_

_“Empires are born from the ashes of heroes. People kill in order to live and make way for the living…”_

_“Order in chaos. Even chaos has its own laws…”_

How can he argue with such truths he himself believed? _I who killed Heldalf for the exact same reason?_

Heldalf indeed... didn't that insane man prophesy a greater truth? Sorey grimaced. _It was he who rose from the grave to taunt me with the truth that killing doesn’t save anything or anyone._

_In the end, I wasn’t able to save him…_

_I wasn’t able to save this world._

_I couldn’t save anyone, not even the one who is most important to me._

_I couldn’t save Mikleo… not_ _without killing something more precious…_

_I killed Mikleo’s memories. I killed the only thing worth saving of us…_

_Without him to acknowledge my existence, I somehow killed myself… and buried that part of me here… hoping time would kill the rest of what’s left._

_Except that nothing has changed about me since that fateful day that the curse of the Insidion has been unleashed. There hasn’t been a single day that I didn’t regret every decision I made that led to this…_

He remembered that when he was asked if he regretted being a Shepherd, he said there was meaning to what he was trying to accomplish and for as long as that meaning and purpose stands, he will push forward. He will endure.

That was a lie too. There wasn’t a single day that he wasn’t afraid of one thing.

There wasn’t a day that he didn’t think about the inevitable outcome, the aftermath of his resolve.

That one day he would have to lose everything he valued, everything he wanted more than anything he’s ever had. That he would have to live with the consequences of all the destinies he has changed when he intervened in human history by becoming the Shepherd.

He was the trigger that set the wheels of the universe turning toward a direction that not even the heavens dared prophesy. 

And with the twisting of fates and chances, he realized too late that he has already lost everything.

Returning to the world does not mean returning to things that were before.

Rebirth doesn’t mean second chances. One is doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past. But the past itself is beyond returning.

It made him realize that changing the world for the better doesn’t mean changing human nature or finding solutions to every problem, fixing each and every flaw or taking a detour from all the known errors of human history. 

It made him realize that there are wars that cannot be fought with strength and determination alone… that strength can be a bane rather than a boon because it makes you want to interfere… to drown in the power of your own selfish resolve, to make everyone and everything bow to your self-righteous logic of how the world should be.

You forget that with power the only law is this: that absolute power requires absolute sacrifices. 

That power wins by taking more than you can afford to lose.

You win something of your choosing and lose something you never thought you might.

Life is unfair because power is. It knows no justice, it is blind to every hurt or kindness.

All it wants is to win… It is its own law. And it does not abide by any truth.

Because contradictions are more persuasive.

_Just like me…_

How he wished he had seen past the lies that he believed in back then. 

Because in truth, there wasn’t a single day that he _could_ pretend he _didn’t_ love him _that_ way…

Saying he loved Mikleo innocently and purely didn’t mean he loved him _differently_.

Just as seraphim can love only in the ways they know how, within the boundaries of their own laws and logic, within the limitations they don’t even know exist but which rule them absolutely like an orbit that admits no resistance, there is no way he could break the shackles that made his love more human than divine.  

Love follows the same laws of gravity. Only the forces of attraction convey themselves differently.

The way he loved, the way he acknowledged these feelings even if only in his dreams when he was growing up… No matter how inseparable they were, no matter how often they shared moments stuck in each other’s company, he would have thoughts of him at night in his dreams, fantasies of him doing and saying certain things he knew the seraph would neither say nor do in the open at least…

The image of Mikleo kissing him, touching him in places too shameless for words, reveling in his every whim and desire, his every command…

If he had Mikleo's reassurance, he would have encouraged every bit of it: every chance and opportunity to share each other's intimate secrets, to claim as his own the shining purity and perfection of his silver seraph, who, despite their mutual feelings chose to remain untouchable… forbidden.

For even as a human child, he was made to understand—the _Celestial Record_ declares it no less clearly—that only the purest of the pure are allowed to co-exist with the seraphim. In the human world, only Shepherds possess that purity, only they are allowed to establish some physical contact with the seraphim—to see and hear them, to communicate with them even if only for purposes of worship. For the seraphim are never to be tainted with human desires, never to be taken or possessed the way human passions seek to dominate and relish.

There were ominous warnings as well that discourage anything less sacred. He has read in some relics among the Asgardian ruins he has stumbled upon that tethering a seraph to the whims and caprices of humans corrupts their souls. Binding with Maotelus confirmed nothing less… Maotelus was one to convince him that his selfish dream of co-existence is nothing but the false expectations of one who has not seen the evils wrought by that mistake. Seraphim have been used to purify the Malevolence that humans have accumulated through their wanton, evil ways. And having absorbed that tainted power, the seraphim, just like their human masters, have given birth to an unwanted race… the race of demons, hellions and wraiths…

There were _therions_ as well… demons known to feed on other demons…

That both humans and seraphim can create something so perverse, so corrupt that their co-existence must be seen as a curse that defiles everything it touches and breathes… such is the reason for the divide that has been in existence for so long, that is, until he and Mikleo came to this world as Shepherd and Sub-lord, borne under the same ill-fated star…

To change things or to return things to what they once were _or should be_ no one can tell.

But he knows one thing. There is no such thing as fate or destiny that cannot be changed by choices. Right or wrong the seraphim should be free to live and love with neither fear nor hate.

Michael must have felt the same. Uniting with the earth pulse told him as much—about those malevolent wills and impure desires that came with the fall of the Shepherds of that bygone age…

Sorey knew Michael’s secret… the reason for Lailah’s oath, and the sacred promise of not letting the same thing come between human and seraphim. After all, it wasn’t love that tainted Michael… rather it was his belief that he should _never_ love that way at all…

That belief can give birth to the darkest of guilts, the most cruel of agonies.

As agony turns to anguish, and anguish to tragedy, Malevolence is reborn.

And with it, the same power of desire that wants to conquer it. Love and hate… opposites eternally damned to co-exist. It was this pulsating, undying contradiction that probably awakened the ultimate origin of Sin and Salvation… the Insidion…

And as Darkness walks in Sin, Light continues to flicker like a dying flame that refuses to be put out. The fact that Salvation seems so fragile, an unrealistic hope trying to keep itself alive…

Sorey gazed at the quiet, sleeping form on the bed next to him, breathing peacefully.

_Mikleo…_

His heart burned. No… this feeling is different… It’s almost…

Too human…

He closed his eyes, trying to slow down his breathing. For one moment, Sorey felt every fiber of him spark into life.

_No, this can’t be…_

There is a heavy, lingering presence inside him just now.

_“You? No wait… where-where am I?”_

He can't be mistaken. This voice sounds familiar. Too familiar. Sorey had to close his eyes and refocus his awareness, striving to arrive at some balance that is needed for such a feat. By now, he knows that speaking to his human side can never be too easy.

_"So it seems you found your way on your own this time."_

_"Guess I did. Besides, who else comes here and ends up getting stuck with you anyway?”_

Sorey winced at that. He knew his own inner voice didn’t sound so welcoming. But that _other_ him… that human side of him seemed just as confused and disappointed.

_"It's not like I'm responsible for this. Maybe you could enlighten me with some information... anything that might have triggered this."_

_“Me? You think I understand any of this better than you do? All I know is something from this world pulled Mikleo into this hell-hole!"_

Sorey felt his chest heave at that. _"Someone just opened a Gate? How come I didn't even feel-"_

_"Gods, your hellions are really making a big mess of everything, and that's not even half of it! Still, whatever happens, I'm taking Mikleo back no matter what!”_

Sorey frowned at that. He couldn’t believe that Sorey Sheppard has just slipped into his mind and body like that, with no apparent concern as regards the danger, the frightening possibilities of this uncanny twist of circumstances that not even the Guild Masters had been able to predict. Not to mention dominating his consciousness without being disturbed by the fact that he, Sorey, was letting him, an outsider, control  _his_ thoughts, _his_ mind, in this _unnatural_ way.

Honestly, knowing that Sheppard and he are of the same essence is NOT giving him any comfort right now. On the contrary, that same thought is provoking instincts and responses in him which he never knew existed _._

_"It would take a million years to make you understand everything you need to know."_

_"Hell, I can't wait that long. Just tell me what to do, I'm sure I can make it work."_

The brimming self-confidence. Sorey wasn't quite sure if he loathed this _other_ side of him or not.

_"Easier said than done. You probably don't even know how dangerous it is to open a Gate. The Shadowlords and their hellions can easily sense that and find the location of the Weaver. Besides, there are a lot of things going on right now-"_

_“What are you saying?"_ Sheppard couldn't keep his irritation and impatience hidden for long. _"Mikleo's been sucked into this mess, he didn't come here on his own. It's a long story, and I don't even know where to start. I hate wasting your time either, so I'd appreciate it if you could hurry it up and tell me how we can get out of here.”_

Sorey sighed deeply, feeling a maddening urge to quiet this _so-human_ part of him down. _“I don't think you realize what you're asking of me. My artes don't work the way you probably think they do, and it's certainly not as easy as pulling a rabbit out of a hat... On top of that, you just got here yourself.”_

 _That_  seemed almost understandable. Sheppard frowned at it nevertheless, feeling the stubborn side of him winning over. _“Point taken, Mr. Shepherd, but I’m not letting Mikleo stay here a second longer.”_

_“And I’m not letting you go anywhere ‘til I’m sure it’s safe enough for him.”_

_“I don’t want to stay too long in your body if you must know.”_

_“I DO know. And to be honest, I’m too tired to even think how this happened.”_

_"Tired? I'm the one who gets beaten up by every fucking hellion that your world throws at me! I mean..."_

Sheppard knew he was being rude and stubborn, but too much worrying easily does that to him. Especially where Mikleo's safety is being compromised.

_"Look, my bad, I don't know why we're even arguing... I just want my own body, who doesn't? Besides, what the fuck’s so wrong with your world that we have to share the same space all the time?”_

With so many things happening lately, Sorey couldn't be bothered by such inconveniences either. _“I know it's been hard for you but... it’s my space to begin with. Don’t you think I should be the one complaining?”_

_“Easy enough for you to say! I-I can’t even touch Mikleo without you touching him too! And hell, if you can't understand how THAT makes me feel-”_

Sorey felt like strangling that other _him_ —if only he could. _“Even if I do understand, it's not your place to settle these things on your own. And I've never kept my own feelings a secret either."_

Sheppard was livid. Right now, a confession from another guy regarding Mikleo is the last thing he'd want to hear. _"Look, Mikleo may have been a part of your life too... But he and I..."_   He didn't want to hurt anybody unnecessarily, but the truth from his side of things also needs to be heard.  _"Mikleo's world and mine are different now.  He deserves a second chance to live the way he wants... if you let him!"_

Sorey had a minute to consider that. _"From the very beginning, I've always given him a choice. I'm not sure if you're strong enough to do the same."_

 _"Oh yeah?"_ Sheppard was not convinced. _"You sound pretty much like a nice guy but hell, I'm positive you were trying to steal a kiss from Mikleo just now!”_

Sorey felt something hot rise from the pit of his stomach. _“I wasn’t—that’s not what I was even thinking!”_

 _“Stop denying it! Right now your body IS my body and that part of you is—gods—I hate to say this but you better do something about that—that part of you that’s making both of us—"_ Sheppard pauses as if to consider something, then grunts with a breathlessly hoarse sound. _"Dammit, I'm not giving you permission to touch him THAT way so don't get any ideas! Besides, if you think I'm just gonna sit back and let you have your way with him-"_

Although that reaction was nothing new, Sorey felt he just about had enough. Warnings, threats... he has lived with those for centuries, and he's not willing to put up with another one, even if it's coming from a part of him too. Right now, he feels tired, so tired. Whether right or wrong, he sees no reason to resist the feelings that have been stirred by Mikleo's presence, not when those feelings are the same reason he's survived this long.

Sorey draws a deep, deep breath, cutting Sheppard off like a signal that can easily be disrupted by the slightest disturbance. " _What Mikleo and I had... is none of your concern. It's not something you or anyone will EVER understand, not that you need to... Likewise, just because you're in MY mind doesn't mean I have to listen to everything you-"_

“Sorey?”

The voice was enough to freeze their blood.

“Mikleo!” Even their voices resonated with the same heat, the same longing that could not be denied.

Mikleo blinked, eyes trying to take in his surroundings even with the haze of sleep and exhaustion making his gaze languid and childishly vulnerable. “S-Sorey… is it… I mean… is that really you?”

The voice sounded so familiar… so achingly familiar… and for one brief second, Sorey felt that the universe could end right where he stood and he wouldn’t regret it. None of it, the good and the bad…

Because right now, everything is right where it should be…

_My everything…_

Without thinking twice about it, he let his feet move him where he had always wanted to be. “I’m right here, Mikleo. I’ll always be here…”

The mood, the tone, it was strange and unfamiliar almost as if he was in a dream or a surreal, imaginary world where he could create Sorey purely from his own secret fantasies. But strangely... no matter the differences, the exotic feel and texture of Sorey's clothes, the lingering expression on Sorey's face, the atmosphere of this bizarre reunion, Mikleo felt... no recognized somehow that it was all the same.

The vision was becoming more and familiar with every passing moment, like an old, fond memory coming back to life.

“Sorey?”

“I’m right here, always here… and I’m not leaving you ever again…”

Mikleo was speechless. And as if everything had really fallen into place, Sorey quietly reached up to touch Mikleo’s cheek fondly before leaning over to catch his lips into a deep, relentless kiss.

The air seemed to vibrate with an unspoken will, like a silent prayer sealing away every sound, everything that might disturb that fragile moment.

This time, not even that _other_ voice and presence within him could break the silence as Sorey put all his heart and soul into that kiss that had been waiting for lifetimes to be felt.

He felt Mikleo wrap both arms around his neck, his lips moving to form words beneath the kiss. “You’re… nghh… s-safe?”

He let his mouth leave Mikleo for only a brief second, or maybe longer, since he needed to give him reassurance. “Nothing can hurt me… except you… and nothing ever will… because you’re here now…”

He felt his groin heat up, his knees quiver as those words finally let him say what he had been wanting, needing to say all these lost centuries of hopeless waiting.

And when Mikleo let him lean his weight on the bed and on top of his lithe and slender body, Sorey knew he had never wanted anyone or anything as he wants Mikleo now. And maybe because his body knew more than what his mind was letting on, the door to the room gave a heavy sound like a bolt locking itself in place.

It was his artes working to put a shield up, to make sure they will never be disturbed.

“S-Sorey…” Mikleo breathed into his ear as Sorey pushed him down the bed and his fingers began to fumble with the clasps of his gloves, his mantle, and his tunic that was already parted halfway. Mikleo could not help but stare at the muscles rippling on Sorey's chest as he worked through his clothing, his black trousers coming undone in a matter of seconds.

Mikleo felt a sudden rush of heat in his loins. Leaping out of the discarded fabric, Sorey's manhood was swelling, quivering hot and rigid as he leaned onto Mikleo to take off Mikleo's shirt and undergarments.

It didn’t make much sense to Mikleo why they were here, where he was right now, but that body, that scent, that voice was dulling his senses, making his body want nothing more but to be dominated by that pulsating heat, that flesh that was hard and eager and wanting…

Mikleo reached down and held the cock that looked so painfully aroused and hungry. Immediately, Sorey groaned with a muffled sob, his restless need wanting more than what it was getting, with Mikleo’s fingers exploring its length tentatively, like it was some precious pet that should be handled with the most tender affection.

“Inside you…" Sorey groaned without reservation, lost in Mikleo's intoxicating lavander scent, which made his senses burn, fueling his already-heated arousal. "I want to be with you completely…”

A stuttering response seemed to lurch from somewhere deep, caught among the cobwebs of his other awareness. But Sorey ignored it, not wanting to let that inner voice, that other presence disturb this moment.

Mikleo nodded, but this time, he pushed Sorey aside so Sorey could lean back on the bed as Mikleo straddled him, his lean, slender form so exposed to Sorey who gazed with languid eyes at the creamy, pale smoothness topping him, pressing their needs together.

“Guide me, Sorey… you don’t have to hold back anymore…”

Those words… it seemed as if he and Mikleo were back in Elysia during those days, except now Mikleo had actually said those words Sorey had been waiting all this time to hear…

And with all the heat and pressure that has been building inside of him, Sorey took a deep, deep breath and kissed Mikleo hard, letting his lips trail Mikleo's chin, down his collarbone, then down, down to his wrist before he found the courage to meet those lavander eyes with open adoration.

“I love you Mikleo… I always have and always will," he whispered tenderly, fondly, feeling his pulse race and his groin melt in the quick, pulsating warmth of their limbs intertwined, their urges touching, stimulating each other's swollen heat. "And I’ll prove it here and now, and we'll never ever be apart again…”

Reaching up, he pulled Mikleo down by the nape so he could press their mouths and lips together in a deep, burning kiss. Then sliding a tentative hand down Mikleo's waist to those smooth thighs firmly anchored around him, he let his other hand guide his hard, impatient arousal into Mikleo’s opening and pushed.

His mind reeled with the sensation that was unlike anything he had ever felt before. _Oh god... god... Mikleo..._

With both hands holding Mikleo by the waist he eased himself slowly at first, then finding Mikleo’s tightness stretching around his quivering cock, he pushed himself deeper and harder, with a brute hunger that made him moan Mikleo’s name like a hopeless prayer.

This was something he should have done a long time ago. If he only knew it felt this good…

“Sorey… _Sorey…_ ”

Those words were all that he needed to hear as he chased his breath and Mikleo’s lips with quivering kisses that made him cry out in muffled groans of pleasure. He stuttered Mikleo's name breathlessly, incoherently as Mikleo rode him, sheathing his growing, pulsating cock until it penetrated his own quivering core. Sorey moaned as Mikleo pressed and squeezed the swell of his arousal, submitting to his pulsating rhythm with perfect ease as if they had done this a hundred times, letting him slip in and out, push and pull with the same frantic urgency that only made his manhood swell harder, fuller, more desperate…

“Mikleo… let me...” Sorey groaned in a hushed, desperate voice as his mouth found Mikleo's sensuous buds reacting to the swirl of his tongue, making it irresistible to bite and suck when they stood erect at the attention he was giving them. With his other hand he began stroking Mikleo's hips, letting his fingers stray tentatively to that urgent need that had begun to shiver between Mikleo's thighs.

The different motions of his mouth, fingers, and his hard, _hard_ throbbing arousal pushed Mikleo to the edge.

"Uh...nguh... S-Sorey!"

Sorey reacted with a loud moan, pushing his cock even more deeply, his frantic movements not wanting to be slowed down. "Want-want you Mikleo... so so hard... just like this..."

"I..." Mikleo gasped as Sorey's brute, swelling need penetrated his sensitive spot. "Oh god, I want you too..."

Sorey arched violently into Mikleo's cavern, savoring the vibrations around his cock that Mikleo's tightening core couldn't help but press desperately, urgently, as if to tell Sorey that his needs were no less intense, demanding. 

But Sorey had to still the movement of their hips arching, rubbing, smashing bonelessly against each other, barely stopping his orgasm before it was about to let itself go. "G-gods, Mi-Mikleo... want more... so much more..."

"Oh Sorey..." Mikleo felt his need shiver with suppressed longing for something more intense as Sorey's words and the hard press of his impatient cock painfully slowing itself down only added to the frustration of their heated bodies not wanting to be free of the other. Sorey's low grunts only made that even more obvious as he tried to keep his hardened urges from tunneling deeper even as his mouth worked its way toward every inch of Mikleo's skin, leaving faint bruises where it licked and sucked with careless abandon.

Nothing however could calm the raging swell of their mutual desires as their stuttering moans and sobs of pleasure merged in the intensity of their inhibited lusts. At least to Sorey, slowing down only intensified the rush of heat in his groin, making his arousal swell shamelessly within Mikleo as if to say that it wasn't enough... that it wanted something more, that Mikleo's lithe and slender body could give it so much more. The tightness, the smallness of him against his rock-hard erection felt insanely good, so good that Sorey had to catch his breath, finding his arousal responding madly to the erotic scent of their bodies wafting thickly from their quivering lusts.

Mikleo felt the strain in Sorey's fingertips as he pressed himself hard against Mikleo's hips, stopping halfway through a deep, swelling thrust. Summer-green eyes blinked languidly at him, making Mikleo suddenly self-conscious.

"I've always wanted to do this... even though I wasn't sure _how_ back then... Now I know it's something I _must_ have always known... because it's you... and only you..."   

Mikleo's breath hitched as those words seem to say something he too must have known or realized even before this very moment. Even if he cannot make sense of it, his mind tells him he can trust _this_ voice, _this_ touch, _this_ intimate connection that penetrates his body and soul with an aching familiarity that cannot be denied.

Sorey leaned forward to push himself up and on top of Mikleo, his weight bringing Mikleo down easily on the bed. But to position himself in such a way, he had to pull out of Mikleo briefly, and in that motion, the slick, wet, anxious feel of his cock being unsheathed so suddenly left him groaning deeply, the sudden emptiness racking him to the core as if being physically separated from Mikleo now was unbearable to the point of anguish even for a fraction of a second.

Mikleo must have felt the same for he calmly let Sorey press him onto the bed with a desperate urgency, gasping as Sorey impatiently thrust his legs wide open, scissor-like, before sinking himself oh so deep into Mikleo, burying his cock fully up to the hilt.

Mikleo moaned weakly as Sorey swept his fevered body with deep, penetrating thrusts, plunging, submerging the full, throbbing length of him with a frantic intensity that was heard as much as it was felt. Sorey stuttered Mikleo's name desperately as he felt his entire being sink itself, allow itself to be pulled and sucked deeper and deeper into the well of pleasures within Mikleo. Lost in the intensity of that raging lust, Mikleo shivered with every thrust that entered him, embracing Sorey's dagger with his tight and quivering sheath, giving Sorey the insane pleasure of watching him be undone so shamelessly, so completely, beneath him.

 _In a way no other man ever could or ever will... no matter the years or the centuries in between_ , Mikleo's mind seems to tell him in vague whispers as Sorey sobbed and cried out his name, their bodies arching against each other as if nothing will ever be enough.  

“Please come… come for me, Sorey…” Mikleo whimpered desperately, his insides stretching with the fullness of that hard cock throbbing inside of him now, slamming hard, deep and fast in quick intervals through his tight opening. But even if the brutal rhythm filled his insides with a raging pain, the pleasure remained incomparable as a feather-like tenderness teased his skin, Sorey’s firm yet gentle strokes making it clear that Sorey needed to touch him, caress every part of him to know he was real.

A deep, hushed groan escaped Sorey as Mikleo reached for his hand and began sucking at his fingers with childish vigor, eyes lidded and begging. The erotic, sensual appeal of that provoked his cock into a violent response, sending ripples of violent pleasure up and down his spine as it swelled with an angry rush of heat. Sorey arched and pushed against Mikleo violently, closing his eyes as every fiber of him shivered with the mad, pulsating rhythm of utter, infinite joy.

His voice raked every wall with shuddering moans as he ramped up his pace, chasing his coming orgasm, which like a tumultuous wave sent ripples upon ripples of pleasure into his heated body. Following an impulse only his imagination knew too well, he reached down with desperate eagerness for Mikleo’s cock.

Mikleo responded to his urgent fingers with a hushed whimper. Reading that as a sign, Sorey stroked Mikleo fondly, tenderly as his raging cock tunneled into Mikleo in and out, in and out, unable to relinquish that other pleasure. Then feeling Mikleo become wet between his fingers, he pulled out his manhood with a deep, almost regretful grunt as he bent down to catch Mikleo's swelling, throbbing heat in his mouth, swirling his tongue around its quivering tip.

“S-Sorey!”

"Please, let me..." Sorey groaned, wrapping his mouth again around the shivering, sensitive peak. The wetness was a welcome texture to his eager lips and made him want to taste more, to relish the unfamiliar yet intoxicating flavor.

"N-no... Sorey, please,  _don't!_ "

Sorey knew that Mikleo was not being honest, as his arousal shivered with every swirl of his tongue. Moaning, pleading, he urged Mikleo on with his eager lips, his hungry mouth as he let his tongue trail the length of Mikleo's cock, starting from the base to the very tip, with teasing kisses. Then, unable to suppress his thirst and craving a second longer, Sorey took all of it in his mouth, relishing, sucking, swirling his tongue around that delicious heat until it was thick with Mikleo’s own trembling, swelling desire responding to Sorey’s own.

Sorey sucked hard and fast, ravishing the thick pleasure of Mikleo's near-orgasm. 

“I-I'm going to come… I'm close...  _Sorey!_ ” Mikleo tried to push him away, embarrassed at the inevitable outcome of Sorey’s tongue pressing against the walls of his sex, licking and sucking away everything he could give.

“Come... come my Mikleo… I want you so...” Sorey pleaded as he lifted his eyes to see his own hunger reflected in those lavender depths. With bated breath, he pulled and pushed Mikleo's cock into his mouth, sucking the slick, swelling arousal even more relentlessly, hungrily, never letting that quivering flesh spill its delicious seed anywhere but inside his waiting mouth.

"Oh gods... gods, please Sorey... coming... I'm coming... so good, ahh, _S-Sorey!_ "

Mikleo came inside him thickly, generously, spurting as much as Sorey was willing to take in and swallow with a starved, eager look that made his languid, summer-green eyes just crazy to watch.

"How... how... could you... do that...?” Mikleo stuttered, knowing how the sight of his finishing in Sorey's mouth shocked and turned him on at the same time. Sorey’s tongue licking, savoring all of that precious seed thickly oozing from him made Mikleo tremble and come again and again, abandoning himself shamelessly to the soft, emerald gaze that made Sorey even more mesmerizing to watch. Likewise, with Sorey's fingers fondling every inch of him that was exposed, Mikleo’s body refused to calm down even when he was supposed to be tired and exhausted with that violent orgasm that shook him to the core.

Sorey, though, was hardly done. With an impatient grunt, he slid up to Mikleo, reaching down between his thighs to grasp his own swollen manhood. The tip of his arousal looked almost frightening to Mikleo, seeing the fevered flesh grow harder and thicker, weeping and throbbing with the urgency to be caressed and satisfied.

Meeting Mikleo's eyes with a fierce, hungry look, Sorey guided his hard, impatient cock back into Mikleo’s entrance, shuddering as the tightness welcomed him and clamped _onto_ him with a beating quiver. Sorey groaned as he pushed himself harder and deeper, thrusting into Mikleo’s warm, pressing heat as his need ached and begged for release.

One thrust, no matter how provoked, however, would never be enough. His body knowing what it wants, he lifted Mikleo’s leg up, the insane hunger driving his manhood to push itself all the way inside Mikleo, to merge as much of himself as Mikleo could take. Right now, all he wanted is to be one with Mikleo absolutely, to give him everything he has, to fill Mikleo to the brim until he overflowed with the same intensity that was making Sorey's heart race as it never did before.

_Feels so good, so good… so this… this is how it is… oh god... oh god... Oh Mikleo..._

He felt it… like a river of heat coursing from his groin up to his abdomen, the rush of liquid fire churned his soul, making him arch forward as if all of his being had finally arrived at the highest peak of joy and ecstasy, releasing itself in one violent push.

Sorey groaned and grunted Mikleo’s name over and over as his cock slammed in and out faster and faster inside Mikleo.

“ _Sorey…_ ” Mikleo groaned as his core ripped within him with a painful pleasure that made his body tremble with every stroke, every anguished thrust that Sorey gave it.

“Didn't... know... how much... I've wanted this... I’m close… so close...” Sorey pleaded, pushed too far from his former inhibitions to be able to muffle the cries that broke out of his frustrated longing, out of his lust and desire that only now made itself felt. Every part of him burned, trembling with a want so intense it was making every inch of him ache and hunger for more.

Sorey pressed harder, mouth wide open as an intense shiver overtook him, making it oh so difficult to even breathe. “I love you, gods, I love you... so so much... oh god, god _M-Mikleo..._ " Sorey panted, chasing his words as the liquid fire climbed up, up from within his heated loins, pooling in his quivering arousal. "... I’m coming… I’m coming… ah… ah... coming... I'm coming! Mikleo _... Mikleo, I'm yours!_ ”

And with that one, final, penetrating thrust, Sorey felt his being rise, felt it soar and lose itself blissfully, completely, to the point of no return. Sorey buried his cock so deep and hard that a loud, anguished cry escaped him as he felt his orgasm explode in heated waves of absolute pleasure. Every spurt, every thickening seed from his core shooting inside Mikleo left him breathless and restless. Languishing in the heat, his body shook with a violent ecstasy, knowing now the secret pleasure of reaching Mikleo's innermost depths, his most intimate treasure trove that Sorey had been aching to fill with all of him. 

That he could feel so much love and lust flowing in one, seamless wave... Sorey knew that no matter how physical it was, what he felt was deep, so much deeper and higher than worship or adoration or reverence, for his obsession was grounded on love, meant only for that one being that moves his soul, the one that drives him beyond even the farthest borders of that existence.

Though right now to be honest, he could not afford to linger on the thought. Panting, heaving with every beat racking his chest, he kneaded Mikleo’s hips, letting the pleasure of that softness heat his palms as he pressed himself harder against those hips, eager to convey the demands of his hunger and lust that only Mikleo's small, beautiful body could satisfy completely. His cock throbbed eagerly, excitedly as the slow thickness of his oozing seed only made Mikleo’s slick entrance tighter, more deliciously warm with a sweet, sensuous scent. Then tunneling deeply, so much more deeply than he did before, Sorey let his shameless arousal give Mikleo one lasting thrust as if to tell him finally... _finally_  that he could and would  _never ever_  endure a single moment parted from him again... that this connection confirmed how much his human soul remained alive within him, loving Mikleo in as many intimate ways as a human _and_ a seraph possibly can.

Sorey smiled with all the happiness his heart could contain in one breath as he finally settled beside Mikleo, thankful that the bed was wide enough to have them both. Hesitantly, he let his slow fingers brush away the soft beads of sweat that left a glistening trail of moisture on Mikleo’s radiant, creamy, white cheeks. Satisfied completely, Sorey reached down and pulled Mikleo’s hand to his lips, giving it a fervent kiss.

A slow, lazy smile breathed against Sorey’s heaving chest. He felt it and answered it with another kiss, this time playfully ruffling Mikleo’s hair.

“Uhn… sleep… please… even just a little…”

Sorey nodded with a chuckle. This time he would hide nothing from him, he would let his adoration express itself openly, knowing now that Mikleo accepts this part of him, this part of him that had been afraid for so long, afraid of being found out, of being rejected and shunned for having such intimate _human_ fantasies and feelings as these. But now all those misgivings can be finally laid to rest, for Mikleo, the one and only being in this world to whom he had promised all his future lifetimes, the one who could never be replaced by any other love no matter how persuasive, has finally accepted his seed, his heart and soul, all of him that Sorey has kept _only_ for Mikleo despite the wasting away of time and those cold, empty  memories that made everything feel distant and meaningless.  

“Sorey… I’m glad you’re all right…” Mikleo whimpered weakly, his soft breath almost tickling Sorey's chest.

"You're safe, Mikleo... and that's all that matters to me..." Sorey whispered back with a slow exhale, catching Mikleo's hand to intertwine their fingers before sleep and exhaustion finally overtook the small, silver-haired angel tucked tightly against him. Just the feel of him there, the scent of him filling Sorey with a sense of warmth and comfort was enough to make him smile, enough to drown his senses with unbridled tears of joy pushing inside of him.

He bent down and kissed Mikleo’s forehead one more time, suppressing a more intense longing to make that brief contact more intimate.

Certainly, his body will never be calm, can never be calm with Mikleo so close, so beautifully close and irresistible the way he is now. The thought made Sorey sigh almost regretfully, feeling his body crave again, but he quietly suppressed the frustration within. After all, what he has just shared with Mikleo is more than just a physical yearning that begged to be satisfied. What happened between them meant he has finally made a claim on Mikleo, a claim that is so irrevocably complete and absolute that the bonds that came with it could never be broken, could never be denied or suppressed. For now that would have to be enough.

It would have to be enough that Mikleo is safe in his arms tonight, safe enough to let Sorey imagine that the world has always been like this: perfectly beautiful and perfectly loved beyond words any language or mind can convey.

More important than that, in this new-found sanctuary of rekindled hopes and promises, there are no forces to threaten, to steal this perfect peace.

Not the Insidion, not the Goddess nor the deep-seated Malevolence that wants to defeat everything good...

Not even someone pure and kind and _more_ deserving maybe, someone...

Not even someone like Sorey Sheppard.

Sorey sighed with only the slightest regret as something or _someone_ threatened to wake from within him as soon as he uttered that name.

Things can become complicated between him and that _other_ part of him from hereon. But right now, in this soft, unperturbed darkness where his most secret wishes have finally found fulfillment, Sorey would let that pass…

For the first time in his life or maybe in this eternal lifetime of unbroken sorrows and solitudes, Sorey found himself able to smile again, and to sleep without letting that smile fade away even in his faintest dreams.

 

**o)------------o)O(o------------(o**

 


End file.
